Devil, Pour Me Another Shot
by Incy Little Spider
Summary: Blossom doesn't want to be the well behaved perfect sister anymore. She wants to be sexy. The only way to shock everyone senseless is going to a very cool club that is a legend to her classmates. What will the consquences be? Nasty ones that's for sure. CURRENTLY ON HIATUS.
1. Otto's Club

She knew she shouldn't be hanging around a place like this. If anyone caught her here…she was sure to be in deep trouble. But she had an excuse. She was sick and tired of being known as the well-behaved, smart one. A well-behaved, smart girl only had teachers falling in love with her. She didn't get respect out of any of the other teenagers her age. They all looked up to Bubbles, cause she was amazingly adorable and Buttercup, because she was such a bad-ass.

She wanted people to think she was cool…wanted to make them envy her, like they did with her other sisters, wanted them to think she was the most awesome sister, not the dorky one. So she made a plan. A plan to blow them away.

The first and most easiest obstacle was the Professor. Being the brainy daughter had it's benefits with a scientist. Out of all 3 of his girls he trusted her the most which was no big surprise. That caused a pang of guilt to surge through her…but she pushed it heavily to the back of her head.

"I'm just going to the library to study," she called as she flew out. The Professor didn't give her a second glance. If it was Buttercup he would of questioned her severely for the next 5 minutes. If it was Bubbles he would of gotten one of the other sisters to go with her…he still didn't believe Bubbles could take care of herself yet much to the blond girl's annoyance.

Blossom had put on her must outrageous outfit in her cupboard, used nearly all her make-up and had spent half an hour on her hair. She hardly looked like herself anymore…but she liked her new image. Gone was the nerdy, goody-goody and here forever was the sexy, dangerous Blossom. The thought made her grin wide.

Now…she was feeling very nervous. Her plan was to cruise into a club which was whispered about with awe around the school…and blow everyone's minds when they saw the most boring puff there. This club, that some people were too scared to visit, was a legend around the school. Anyone from the school who was seen entering it would be talked about for weeks afterwards, praising the person for being so dangerous and brave to enter such a place.

It was called Otto's Club…Otto being the name that Him went under cause he didn't like people running away in fear whenever the heard that the person they were talking to was Him. Answering with Otto caused the demon mild invisibility and attracted people to his diner and club.

People still knew he ran the club, though. That was one of the things that made it such a scary and cool place to visit. And Blossom was visiting it! She, the puff that people thought was such a boring tight-ass!

As she entered it she saw a group of girls from her year exiting one of the more safer clubs from across the road. They saw her striding into Otto's Club and their jaws dropped open. A wave of pride shot through her.

The club was very dark, red lights hanging from the ceiling, shooting a eerie scarlet glow through the place. It was so dark she almost bumped into someone, a burly man who grinned and grabbed her butt. Next minute he was on the ground, yelling with pain and clutching his broken nose. No-one seemed to notice.

The place was crowded but strangely quiet and suffocatingly steamy. She couldn't make out the features of anyone around her, not even the people next to her. Everyone was swaying slightly to the droning music and whispering to each other. All the women were hardly dressed and even some of the men were as well. Big, cushy, pink seats sat in the corners where dark shapes were kissing each other with such ferocity Blossom seriously thought they should go find somewhere private.

Fighting against the normal, logical voice that told her to leave immediately she pushed over to sit at the bar which was full of dark shapes smoking and drinking without making a noise.

The creepy music, nearly pitch darkness, whispers, cigarette smoke and stifling heat was starting to frighten her a bit. Ha…it sounded bizarre to her that the leader of the Powerpuff Girls would be scared of a club.

The dark, shadowy bartender was cleaning a jar when he came to ask for what drink she'd like. He didn't even ask to see if she was at a legal age to drink…even though she was…but still it made the goody-goody part of her cringe a little. How many underage kids had gotten drinks here without a mishap?

As she was sipping at her drink, the music suddenly changed to a jazzy number and the red lights at the stage up front turned brighter.

She looked on in shock as a curvy, blond girl slinked her way onto the stage dressed only in lacy black lingerie and fish-nets. She recognized that girl…it was…Bubbles? In pure confusion she watched as her sister danced seductively on the stage, to hoarse shouts from the men in the crowd. The first instinct in Blossom's mind was to storm up there and drag her sister away, giving her a stern telling-off. She crushed that response and instead a white-hot feeling of jealously rose in the back of her throat. Here she was, thinking she so adventures and bad-ass, entering Otto's Club and her baby sister was a half-naked dancer there instead!

Bubbles was very good at dancing, as if she had done it millions of times before. The pink puff pushed her way until she was right next to the stage and glared at her so intensely there was no possible way the blue puff couldn't of noticed her. Bubbles took one look at her sister and her mouth opened in shock and she almost slipped over. Then she flicked her blond hair back and continued dancing, totally ignoring her.

She danced on for another 10 minutes then climbed off the stage. Someone passed her a furry, mink coat to put on over her lingerie and she hugged it tight around herself. She started to walk towards the exit.

In a second Blossom was beside her, catching her arm. Looking defeated Bubbles sighed and allowed herself to be dragged onto one of the cushy pink seats.

"Well?" Blossom growled, staring at her disapprovingly. Her sister looked like a little girl being told off.

"Well what? I'm 16 years old, Blossom. I can make decisions for myself," she hissed, refusing to make eye-contact.

"Anyway, I was sick of being sweet, innocent Bubbles that everyone treated like a baby. These guys don't treat me like a little girl," she grinned so widely she could be seen in the darkness

Blossom felt her anger edge away. That was nearly the same reason she came here, wasn't it? She wanted people to respect her more.

"Does Buttercup know?" She asked in a kinder tone. Her sister nodded.

"She wanted to be a dancer as well…but…" suddenly her sister blushed bright red in the shadows.

"What?" Blossom demanded.

"Well…dancer's have to sorta…fulfil requirements…" she said looking down and fiddling with her coat.

"What do you mean?" Blossom asked, not catching on.

"We have to fulfil…requirements…for Him, you know," Bubbles, if it was possible, went even redder. Finally understanding, Blossom's eyes widened in horror and she made a noise like an angry bird.

"_That…little…perv!" _She hissed through her teeth.

There were a few minutes of awkward silence, where Blossom tried to remove the mental picture from her head. Another girl was dancing on the stage to the droning music again, which immediately set her on edge.

"Do you wanna go home?" Bubbles asked softly, seeming entranced by the music. Her sister nodded slowly.

They drifted out in a daze.

As they flew home, Bubbles still dressed in the lingerie which must have been freezing, the blond girl finally spoke.

"You…you wont tell the Professor, will you?" She pleaded, shooting her sister a scared look.

The old, good, well-behaved dork rose in her for a brief moment. But after tonight…she sent her sister a reassuring look.

"I wont tell him if you do the same for me," she smirked.

And they both laughed out loud into the clear, black night.

* * *

**A/N Because I can't write for an 18 year old, I've knocked the girl's ages down to 16...please give me some contructive critisism not just praise...I think I need it bad. ^^**


	2. Offers

"Did you hear…?"

"Oh my God you won't believe…"

"I always thought she was a loser…"

"I can't believe she went into that place…"

With each awed whisper and every shocked expression sent her way, Blossom grinned wider. She was lapping the attention and worship up like a dog and was eagerly awaiting some more.

The night of her big adventure, Blossom and Bubbles had arrived home much later then they had expected. The blue puff didn't seem too worried about the aspect of a furious Professor but Blossom was nearly hyperventilating in fear.

_If he realizes where I've been, he'll never trust me again! He'll follow my every step, he'll ground me for the rest of my life…HOLY CRAP! _The pink puff had to clutch her chest and take several deep breaths to control her hammering heart.

Bubbles had looked at her, very confused.

"What are you so nervous about?" She whispered as they tiptoed through the silent, dark house.

"What am I…?" Blossom had given her a flabbergasted look. "If the Professor catches us…we'll be in really deep trouble!" She gasped.

But no Professor appeared to give them a royal telling-off. When they passed his room they heard the reassuring snores of their father which told them they weren't going to get in any trouble tonight.

The slipped into the big room the three sisters still shared and were greeted to big green eyes staring at them in the darkness looking very excited. Buttercup clicked the lamp on and looked at Blossom with an amazed gaze.

"Holy crap, sis! You've never come home this late before! Good thing I fed the Professor a story or you'd be in deep shit. Wait a sec…" the green puff took a look at what her red-head sister was wearing and sucked in air.

"What the hell are you wearing?" She nearly shouted. Blossom looked around anxiously, praying the Professor wouldn't wake. Meanwhile her blond sister was grinning widely and slinking off to get dressed into her pyjamas.

"Our nerdy sister just visited Otto's Club," Bubbles giggled and Buttercup's jaw nearly hit the ground. The pink puff tried not to look too proud as she started to wiggle into her pyjamas.

The three sisters talked well into the night, something they hadn't done since they were little. In their teenage years Blossom had drifted apart from her sisters and Bubbles and Buttercup had seemed to bond together like glue. They were always covering up for each other, helping each other out with homework and getting along a lot better then they had done when they were kids.

It made Blossom feel green with envy…but she always said to herself that studying and behaving were more important then anything else. She couldn't get too attached to anyone…not after that very first time all those years ago. She had to stay cool and collected as a leader should be.

But now…they were chatting like they'd been doing it for years. The thought made her chest warm up a bit…and it was all because of Blossom quitting being a nerd! Her decision to change was having all the brilliant results, just as she had dreamed about.

The day at school was turning out to be excellent. The Professor was busy working in the lab, so he didn't notice the outfit she was wearing which Blossom was sure he would disapprove of. The kids at school sent her awe-struck looks that were normally reserved for her sisters and the pink puff was simply glowing with pride.

But she wanted more…hell she wanted heaps more. Hanging for one night in Otto's Club was not enough for her. The buzz would die down very soon and once again she'd be boring old Blossom. She needed something else…

…she couldn't…Bubbles had told her what you had to do to get the job…God no…_God no. _

No…she had to do it to get the adoration her blond sister received. Returning to geeky Blossom was like a nightmare for her. She had to keep her new persona up. To do that she might have to do some unsavoury things…but to get stuff you wanted you sometimes had to give…right?

When the Lunch Bell rang Blossom sucked up her nerve and trudged over to the big trees at the edge of the oval. Today had been rather busy, with two tests, 3 robberies and Princess being a brat again. But it was all in a day's work after all.

When she arrived at the trees where all the popular teens hanged out she had to take a few deep breaths again to settle herself. She couldn't believe she was doing this.

Buttercup was lounging in the air, kicking a soccer ball to Mitch Mitchleson half-heartedly. Bubbles was dozing on the grass with 2 other girls who reeked of perfume. They all looked up as they saw her approach. Her sisters grinned in welcome and the other teens shot her the usual awe-struck she had been receiving all day.

"Hey sis!" Buttercup greeted, flying over to slap her on the back. Wincing slightly at her black-haired sister's strength she smiled weakly back at her.

"What's on your mind?" One of the perfume-girls asked, in a very friendly voice. Usually this particular girl would walk by her without sending her a second glance. Her new actions towards her made her already over-inflated ego grow even bigger.

She sat down awkwardly on the grass, tucking her legs underneath herself and clasping her hands together nervously.

"Well…you know the dancer's at Otto's Club?" She said, blushing a little. They all caught on very quick and Buttercup choked loudly, quickly disguising it as a cough.

"Blossom, time-out, time-out! You do know what you have to do to be a dancer?" The green puff turned to her blond sister for support. "Bubbles told you what you have to do, right? I mean…" She stopped talking and plonked down onto the grass.

Blossom flicked her hair back angrily and stared into her hands.

"I'm 16, Buttercup. Just because you didn't have the guts to fulfil requirements for Him doesn't mean I don't," she hissed.

The two glared at each other for a few seconds. A small voice piped up from the grass, "you might want to think about it for a couple of days before you make your decision." The two sisters looked at Bubbles who was staring at them both with a very solemn expression. The other 3 teens were sitting in an amazed silence as they soaked in the conversation.

"Seriously Blossom, think hard about this. Him might look like a girly pushover…but we haven't had a proper fight with him for years. Do you even remember what he's able to do?" Her blue eyes bored into the bright pink one's and Blossom shivered. She was right…she had nearly forgotten what Him had done in the past.

"I _will_ think about it, Bubbles. I'll be sure to make the right decision. I'm the leader after all…it's my job," she said and smiled half-heartedly. Bubbles smiled back, as Buttercup stared at them both as if they were insane.

"Interesting…" came a voice from the trees. Blossom looked up in shock as a figure dropped from the branches. The other guys didn't seemed so surprised as a small, scrawny guy with dull ginger hair smiled up at them.

"Please allow me to introduce myself. I'm Mr. Ginger…I'm a worker for Him," the scrawny guy said with the same fixed smile on his face. He definitely looked like a worker for the demon, with his fish-nets and sloppily applied makeup.

"When you've made your descion to join our little family all you have to do is call this number," he said, passing her a card and smirking. Blossom took it uneasily and shuddered as Mr. Ginger's long fingernails scraped her arm.

As she tucked the card into her pocket Mr. Ginger disappeared into the tree again like a monkey and Blossom sent the group a befuddled look.

"We'll explain about that later," Buttercup said in an uncomfortable voice.

She waved good-bye to the group and floated off.

A voice in her head…the old Blossom was screaming that this was a terrible idea and she should get out before it was too late. As per usual, Blossom crushed that voice and continued floating down the oval. The old Blossom was _never, ever_ coming back now. She was dead forever more.

* * *

**A/N Okay I'll admit it. This was orginally supposed to be a one-shot...but because of you guys asking for updates I decided to turn it into a story. I still haven't figured put a proper plot yet...and I have fears that this whole story might soon be deleted by my short-attention span. But I'll try my best to stick with it.**


	3. Unease

"Buttercup! You take the left side and Bubbles go for the head!" Ordered Blossom frantically as a big, black gooey claw swiped at her, knocking her onto the pavement.

"Dammit," she muttered, examining the jagged scratch on her arm. She flinched as the monster roared at the top of it's lungs, breaking a lot of windows in the process.

"BLOSSOM!" Shrieked Bubbles as she struggled against the black tar that was slurping her in. The leader squinted her eyes, shooting out a red laser beam and breaking her sister free. The sticky, glutinous beast roared in pain and swiped at Blossom again, who quickly dodged.

"Buttercup, where the hell are you?" Screeched Blossom as she gave the monster a mighty kick in the head. Below her, Bubbles was getting grossed out by the black goo that was flying everywhere, coating the road in muck. Above her Buttercup was zapping, smashing and punching the poor beast to a pulp.

The monster whimpered in pain and tried to aim a punch at Buttercup's face. Chuckling sadistically, the green puff ripped the slimy arm out of it's socket and swung it like a baseball bat at the creature's head. It slipped over, squealing in agony and landed in a thump on the ground.

"Bubbles use sonic scream!" Blossom demanded, giving the nearly-defeated monster another eye-zap. The blue puff squeezed her eyes shut and screamed at the top of her voice, shattering a few windows and causing both her sister's and the curious bystanders to cover their ears in discomfort.

The creature shuddered, it's big black body wobbling like jelly. With a painful moan it exploded, showering the entire city in black, slimy mess. A single milky eyeball rolled down the road, leaving a trail of blood behind it.

"Ew gross!" Bubbles screamed, trying to claw the black tar out of her hair. Buttercup laughed, wiping the blood onto her jeans.

"What else can we fight?" She asked eagerly, looking around. Blossom rolled her eyes and floated off to clean up the colossal mess the monster had made.

While they cleaned up the tar and broken glass, Bubbles whispered, "so have you made a decision yet?"

It had been a week since Mr. Ginger had passed her his card and Blossom was still thinking about it. Old Blossom was still screaming to be heard, knocking around in her head and declaring that she was an idiot to even consider doing something so against her morals.

…for once she felt like giving in to that voice…just excepting that she was the leader, the responsible one who would never do a thing so wrong. Of course the new Blossom was kicking up a bigger fight against her, demanding her to be a rebel for once to stop being such a goody-two-shoes. It was like her moral compass was going haywire, and it was driving her mad.

"No…not yet," she murmured back to Bubbles who immediately looked disappointed. She turned around to zap some of the broken glass away.

After another 5 minutes of cleaning up the mess the sisters flew wearily back to their house. Sometimes cleaning up was even more exhausting then the fight itself. Especially when a certain monster was humongous and caked in goo.

When they wandered through the door, the grinning face of the Professor appeared from the kitchen.

"Hello my little angels. How was crime fighting today?" He asked cheerfully to the tired moans of his daughters.

"I've made choc-chip cookies, they're in the kitchen if your hungry. You can get yourself a glass of milk if you want as well," he said and ran a hand through his greying hair. Even though his daughters were now teenagers he still treated them like little girls a lot. It got on their nerves occasionally but they had learned to grow used to it.

In the kitchen Blossom grabbed a cookie and pulled her Maths book onto the table. Most of the questions were pretty easy to her and she answered them all in mere minutes.

"Do you want to come to the club tonight?" Bubbles asked, shooting her sister a look. For a second she thought she saw something flash in those blue eyes but Blossom ignored it.

After a few seconds of a wild debate between old Blossom and new Blossom the latter stood victorious.

"Yeah sure," she grinned, quickly eating the rest of the cookie. Bubbles grinned back.

Buttercup turned from her sandwich and said with her mouth full, "I'm coming too this time."

They all smiled at each other…like old times when they used to be as thick as thieves. Blossom felt as if she had eaten a spoon of honey, all warm and gooey inside.

So happy she didn't notice the strange glint in one of her sister's eyes.

* * *

The Professor had gone to bed early that night which was strange but fortunate. He often worked late into the night on experiments and inventions…not this time though.

Bubbles and Buttercup were extremely grateful for this convenience but Blossom felt uneasy. She felt even more nervous as the three made their way down to the club. Her two sisters seemed not to notice how quiet she had become as they reached nearer to their destination. The two chatted away happily like a couple of kids.

Buttercup and Bubbles also entered the club full of confidence and enthusiasm. Blossom, however strayed around at the entrance thinking hard. Could she be a dancer? Could she have the guts to do it?

"Come on!" Came the impatient cry from inside.

_You'll regret it, _hissed the old Blossom bitterly. With that, the pink puff pushed her way into the club, her heart pumping madly in her chest.

It seemed even darker then the last time…it was like her eyes were screwed shut in a pitch black room in out-of-space. The heat…the heat was nearly unbearable. As Blossom groped around blindly, bumping into grumbling shadows, the sweat ran off her in rivulets. It was ruining her carefully applied make-up, frizzing out her hair and stinging her eyes.

People were whispering and chuckling around her. She couldn't see a thing at all and it made her shiver…not being able to see…made that she wasn't in charge. She didn't have any control at all. Blossom hated feeling vulnerable.

"Bubbles? Buttercup?" She whimpered, trying to add some authority into her wavering voice. The whispers around her grew sadistic and the droning music seemed to intensify, making cold chills travel up her spine.

Suddenly she felt…felt like when she was little and had woken up from a nightmare. The shadows looming down on her…the jumbled toys in the corner suddenly looking like something about to pounce. The tree branch outside the window looking like fingers trying desperately to get in. _You won't live to see the morning…_

…cold fingers suddenly gripped her elbow and the pink puff stifled a wail. Whipping around she saw the bright blue eyes of her sister, shining creepily in the darkness.

"B-Bubbles!" She exclaimed, clutching her beating heart. Her sister's eyes glinted strangely and Blossom wiped the sweat from her brow.

"Do you want to talk to Him? We could arrange for you to be a dancer this very night," she whispered, her voice excited.

_No, _screamed the voice in the back of her mind. _No, no, no!_

"Buttercup's having another crack at it. She's not going to wimp out this time," Bubbles whispered again, leading Blossom across the dance-floor.

_The blind leading the blind, _Blossom thought idly as she struggled to see through the pitch-darkness.

"B-Bubbles…I'm still thinking about this…I don't want to jump into anything I'll regret," she whispered urgently. Bubbles turned around and for a moment she looked…angry?

"You wont regret a thing, Blossom. Seriously!" She replied, her eyes shining bright. After a few minutes of wandering around blindly, they seemed to have reached their destination. It was a dark alcove, separated from the rest of the room with a narrow, rickety staircase spiralling upwards…Blossom wouldn't have spotted it if it wasn't for her sister's emerald eyes glowing besides the staircase.

"I heard somewhere that people never see things unless their looking for it…" Bubbles whispered and the pink puff shivered slightly.

Buttercup's eyes were wide and nervous…Blossom gripped her hand reassuringly and she jumped slightly.

"Why are we waiting here?" Blossom asked, looking at Bubbles. The blue puff's eyes wordlessly slid to the direction of a small black table sitting in the alcove. On the black table was a very old-fashioned telephone, one of those rotary ones.

"Bubbles knows the number," the green puff whispered. Bubbles walked up pushing the two aside. The pink puff noticed Buttercup's hand shaking in hers. She looked at her, concerned.

"You sure you want to go through with this?" Blossom asked and the green puff looked away, refusing to answer.

"Of course she does!" Bubbles snapped, dialling the number a little roughly.

"It isn't as bad as everyone makes out to be," she continued and she smiled in the darkness as the phone started ringing. Blossom stared at her blond sister, uneasiness chewing at her like a worm. Buttercup was silent…but she put it down to nerves.

She didn't like it here…she was starting to get second thoughts.

_"Heelooo?" _A high pitched voice floated from the telephone receiver. The voice…so horribly familiar…had an instant effect on the room. The droning music faltered slightly, the sadistic whispering suddenly grew quiet and a deadly hush swept through the room like wind at sea.

Blossom stared in horror at the telephone receiver…it had morphed suddenly, quick as blinking into a skull. A human skull with blank black eyes and grinning teeth.

Bubbles didn't miss a beat.

"Hi Him! It's me Bubbles," she chirped brightly into the place where the skull's ear should be. Her tone of voice seemed so out of place in the cold, sinister environment that Blossom nearly laughed out loud.

_"Sweet, little Bubbles. How are you dear?" _The sickly-sweet voice crooned, the decaying teeth chattering. Blossom felt her green-eyed sister flinch slightly beside her. Bubbles giggled and Blossom fought the urge to shudder.

"I'm good! Um…I've got someone here for you," she tittered and Blossom thought she saw her blushing slightly. The empty eye-sockets rolled around to stare at the two sisters. Buttercups hand gripped her own, tight as a vice and a bead of sweat rolled down Blossom's back.

_"Hmm…two others? That's very good," _he said in a slightly hungry-sounding voice.

__

No, no, no…

"NO!" Blossom burst out. Buttercup's eyes widened in shock and Bubbles nearly dropped the phone.

_"Excuse me?" _The voice sounded miffed.

"I mean…I mean…I'm not applying today. Only Buttercup," Blossom said, trying to make her voice confident. Something flickered in Bubbles' eyes…

_"Buttercup…" _the voice whispered the name like it was a dirty word that you read in magazines, hidden from your parents. Buttercup was now gripping so hard Blossom thought her hand might drop off.

The empty eyes rolled back to the big blue ones.

_"Send her up…" _it ordered and Bubbles smiled wide again. After some hesitation Buttercup's hand slipped from her own…her bright, green eyes seemed braver now.

"Wish me luck," she said, the only words she had spoken since entering the club. Her voice seemed strained and overly-cheerful as if she was putting on the toughness.

"C'mon, we mustn't keep him waiting…" Bubbles muttered, her hand twisting out to grab the green puff's one. They walked towards the rickety staircase.

"I might go home now…" Blossom called softly from her place. She noticed the blank, black eyes still staring at her hungrily and she backed away slightly. Her two sisters looked down at her from the fifth step, one pair of eyes scared the other excited.

"Okay then…" Bubbles replied her voice strangely cold. They turned and she felt her heart grow small as she watched their retreating figures.

As she floated across the silent dance-floor, her heart thumping wildly in her chest, she thought she heard something…

__

"Come back soon…"

* * *

**A/N Sorry for the long wait. (Looks guilty.) I seroiusly had to re-write this chapter about 5 times...and because I'm paranoid I didn't get ONE betareader I got about 3. Two from off this site and my older cousin who's a Powerpuff fanatic. I'm terrified about OOCness...I'm very well prepared lol.**


	4. Violence

Blossom couldn't get to sleep. She had been up for the last hour, glancing at her bedside clock every five minutes. It was nearly two in the morning and Bubbles and Buttercup hadn't arrived home yet.

_Could Him have done something to them? _Her paranoid mind whispered. _Could he have hurt them? _She rolled over again, trying to find a comfortable position.

She didn't have to worry about being tired at school the next day. They had a day off on Friday and Buttercup had suggested that Blossom should come hang around the basketball courts with her. She had enthusiastically accepted of course.

The door suddenly creaked open and Blossom gave a sigh of relief. Bubbles shadowy figure slid into the room and over to the wardrobe to get undressed. After a five minute wait, Buttercup was still no-where to be seen.

"Bubbles?" She whispered and the silhouette turned to look at her. The ice-blue eyes had never seemed as unfriendly as they were now. Blossom drew her blankets around her tight. Was it just her imagination or had the temperature in the room suddenly seemed to drop until it was freezing? Blossom shook her head slightly. It had to be her imagination.

"Where's Buttercup?" She whispered.

Bubbles turned back around and slivered, snake-like into her nightie. She drifted over and wriggled under her bed-covers.

"She's probably still with Him. She'll be back in the morning," she replied, her voice colder than a winters day as she turned her back to Blossom. The pink puff stared at the shape of her sister and felt unease trail back into her veins like poison.

"Bubbles? If you're mad at me about…about Him. Just tell me, okay?" She said into the darkness. There was no reply. Blossom sighed again and closed her eyes, inviting sleep to close down on her.

_Someone was dancing…she couldn't see who it was. She knew she had to get out, a primal instinct was telling her to escape. The throbbing music was so loud her head was beginning to ring. Get out...get out. She thought she saw someone. A girl with raven hair, dressed in a pure white dress. The dress was splattered in dark, crimson blood. She felt her heart pumping in her chest as the girl in white turned to look at her with sad, emerald eyes. Then horrible, taunting laughter filled every crevice of her mind and a voice whispered," Come back soon."_

Blossom's eyes blinked open. The weak sunlight was hitting her face and she sat up, rubbing her eyes. Remembering the night before she looked over to Buttercup's bed. Her sister was fast asleep, her blankets coiled tight around her. Blossom glanced at her other blond-haired sister's bed. It was empty.

Feeling wide awake, she floated into the hallway and down the stairs. The Professor was crouched over the coffee maker sniffling unhappily, looking completely exhausted.

"Are you okay?" She asked, concerned. The man jumped and turned around. His hair was dishevelled and his eyes were gummy and bloodshot.

"Oh, hello Blossom. I think I'm coming down with a cold. Actually..." here he paused to yawn. "...I might just go back to bed." Taking his coffee cup he shuffled out of the room, coughing hoarsely.

Blossom quickly zapped herself some toast and spread it with jelly. She thought to herself where Bubbles might be off to.

There was a loud grumbling yawn and Buttercup lumbered into the kitchen. At a first glance she seemed to be fine. Blossom looked harder. Her green eyes were unusually bright and her arms were covered with small scratches. Buttercup seemed not to notice her sister's intense gaze as she got herself a bowl of cereal.

"How was Him?" Blossom asked as she poured out a glass of orange juice. Buttercup turned from the pantry and smiled.

"Pretty good. Hey, are you coming with me to the basketball courts?"

The change of subject was so sudden Blossom didn't think twice. Munching into her toast, she nodded. Buttercup's smile widened.

"Do you know where Bubbles is?" The pink puff asked. The wide smile faltered. Suddenly Buttercup looked slightly flustered.

"Um...nah I dunno. Probably hanging out at the mall or something," she replied, grabbing the juice carton and pouring a big glass. Blossom shot her an odd look and quickly stuffed the rest of her toast into her mouth. There was an awkward silence as the two sisters finished their breakfast.

"Get dressed quick, I can't wait to tell the guys about last night," Buttercup said, the grin back on her face. Blossom grinned back.

* * *

The basketball courts were located in Townsville Park, a favourite hangout for civilians. Ironically the courts were never used for actual sports but rather a major gossip place for the teenagers of Townsville. Blossom had never visited the place much before.

A swarm of teens were sitting, cross-legged around the grey asphalt, whispering and giggling with each other. When they saw the sisters arrive they waved and beckoned them to come over. Buttercup happily obliged but Blossom strayed awkwardly at the side.

"Hurry up!" Buttercup commanded.

Due to her new role as a dancer, Buttercup was the centre of attention. The teens begged to hear about Him and what the requirements were like. The green puff, smiling smugly, refused to tell a thing.

"If you wanna know so bad why don't you find out for yourselves?" She said. The teens looked at each other in fear.

"No way. He's creepy as," a small blond boy shot back and some other kids nodded in agreement.

"You wussies. I betcha scared of your own shadow," Buttercup retaliated, smirking at them. The other teens laughed. Blossom tried to join them but felt her insides bunching up with fear.

When had she suddenly lost her confidence? When she was younger she was filled to the brim with it. It came naturally with being the leader. Over the years it had slowly dried up until she had hardly a shred of confidence left.

Feeling a little depressed Blossom hardly noticed when her cell phone went off. Everyone looked around from their avid conversation to stare at her. Flushing slightly with embarrassment Blossom got out her phone. The screen displayed, _Miss Bellum._

"Hello, Miss Bellum? What seems to be the problem?" She shot into the phone. She saw Buttercup rolling her eyes.

A couple of years ago the Mayor had started to get very sick. So sick he couldn't do anything much at all. Miss Bellum had taken over nearly everything including ringing the Powerpuff Girls when the town needed it. After his wife left him, Miss Bellum had moved in to try and nurse him back to health.

"Blossom, there's a robbery down town! Hurry!"

Blossom stuffed her phone into her pocket and beckoned at Buttercup. Sighing with annoyance, the green puff stood up from her sprawled position on the ground and reluctantly followed her sister.

The duo darted across the sky while Blossom wondered if Bubbles would be down there already. Probably not. She also wondered why a simple robbery couldn't be handled by the police. She had wondered this for the last ten years...

The alarms were ringing in the Townsville Bank, a place that was robbed so often that it was nearly a daily ritual. Today's thief was a skinny, runty looking guy who was sprinting out onto the pavement, dragging a big sack of money behind him. He was definitely not a very bright criminal because he wasn't even wearing anything to conceal his features.

Buttercup laughed a sharp war-cry and zapped down onto the pavement to pursue him. The man gave a yelp of fear and ducked into an alleyway. Very bad move. Blossom flew down into the alleyway just in time to see Buttercup grab the guy by the back of the head and smash it against the brick wall. The pink puff's jaw dropped open in horror.

"BUTTERCUP!" She screamed clapping her hands over her mouth as she saw the thief collapse onto the ground. For a thief they normaly just tripped him up or zapped at his legs to make him fall. They never did something as brutal as head smashing to a petty criminal. That was restricted to the tougher villains and giant monsters.

Blossom flew over next to the man and felt for a pulse. It was strong enough. Blood was oozing down the man's forehead and his dark eyes were rolled up to the back of his head. He was alive though. Thank God for that. Blossom looked up to glare at Buttercup who was looking totally uninterested.

That was odd. Buttercup was famous for sometimes being too violent. Although she had never before smashed a robber's head against a brick wall she had sometimes gotten carried away when beating up other criminals. Later on she had always felt guilty about it and had stuttered out a sorry to those affected. Always a heartfelt apology. This time however, she looked almost...bored?

"What on earth's wrong with you? You could've killed him!" Blossom yelled, her voice going high-pitched and screechy. Her sister looked down at her and rolled her eyes.

"He'll live," she replied, tossing her pitch-black hair over her shoulder. Blossom felt a flush of outrage rise to her cheeks. Buttercup had just brutally cracked a man's head open like an egg. Now she was acting like she didn't even care! The green puff saw her sister's look and shrugged.

"What're you so worked up about? He's not gunna die," she shot at her looking annoyed. The sounds of sirens echoed in the distance and Buttercup started to float away slowly.

"Cya later," she called over to Blossom and flew off into the sky. The pink puff set the man's head gently onto the concrete and watched as bunch of police officers rounded into the alleyway, guns drawn. _Bit too late now, _Blossom thought, resisting the urge to snort contemptuously.

The man running in the lead stopped dead in his tracks to stare at the amount of blood all over the concrete. He turned a sickly-looking green.

"He fell over," Blossom said weakly. He heard someone stifle a chuckle.

"He must've fallen over pretty hard, little lady," a young cop smirked as another officer ordered an ambulance into her walkie-talkie.

Feeling her insides squirm with guilt, Blossom floated down the alleyway and away from all the blood. Her hands were covered in it and the coppery smell made her gag a little. She didn't feel like going back home yet.

Confused thoughts ran through her mind. What was going on with her two sisters? Bubbles had suddenly become as cold as winter and Buttercup a violent psycho. Was it just all a part of being a teenager? Or was something else going on?

Feeling dizzy she sat down hard on a garbage can. She had been walking for at least two minutes and she was near the end of the narrow alleyway.

Blossom put her head between her knees and took five deep breaths. "Calm_," _she instructed herself; the throbbing fuzziness behind her eyes lessened a bit. Righting herself, she leaned her head against the brick and closed her eyes. When she opened her eyes she felt much more composed.

After a few seconds, she looked around. From her dark corner, she spotted something. Glowing red eyes shone in the shadows, fixed hungrily onto her face. Blossom gave a squeak of surprise.

The eyes narrowed and a figure slid up from the shadowy ground. She recognized the long, bony fingers and lurid makeup immediately. It was Mr. Ginger.

"You look like you've just seen a ghost," he said sitting next to her and leering. Blossom glared at him and started to stand up. His long fingers shot out and clasped around her wrist pulling her back down with surprising strength.

"I need to talk to you about something," he ordered, purple-painted nails digging into her flesh. Impulsively Blossom whipped her hand away, smacking him hard in the mouth, causing his head to snap back.

Mr. Ginger didn't seemed too fazed by this and just sneered at her as blood trickled down from his mouth. Blossom felt curiosity win her over.

"What is it?" She demanded impatiently. She looked at the young man distastefully as he licked at his teeth.

"I heard you chickened out last night at Otto's Club," he said and his bloodshot eyes glinted maliciously. Blossom went bright red with embarrassment.

"Why are you so interested?" She snapped back, crossing her arms over her chest defensively. Mr. Ginger's smiled a superior grin.

"Just that Him was very concerned about your well-being last night. He doesn't want you to feel uncomfortable in anyway," here Mr. Ginger covered his mouth with his hand to suppress a grin. "So he's offering you to come over to see the backstage of his club. See all the dancers before they go on stage. Make you feel welcome into our little family."

He let this new information sink in for a few minutes. The first reaction in Blossom's mind was a big fat no-thank-you. Trusting Him was like trusting a venomous snake.

"Of course I never believed dorky little Blossom would ever have the guts to go into Otto's Club again. I definitely wouldn't think she could brave the backstage," Mr. Ginger said snidely and stood up to leave. He slinked off down the alley-way and into the darkness.

His words were like a knife struck into her heart. Blossom felt anger fire inside her and she clenched her fists. She though that she had impressed everyone with her bravery and coolness.

"Well obviously_," _she raged, tears prickling in the back of her eyes, "I was wrong."

The pink puff stood up and began racing down the street, hurling herself into the warm afternoon sky. She felt the wind fill her lungs and the furious tears run down her cheeks as she raced higher into the clouds.

Far away from the rest of the world, Blossom floated in the sky, a ball of hate scrunching in her stomach.

"I'll show them," she whispered into her fists, far away from prying ears. She clasped herself into a tight ball and let the warm air engulf her. "I'll show them all."

* * *

**Thanks for all the reviews and support so far and thanks to Deus Ex Procella for beta-reading this chapter. ^^**


	5. Backstage

The Professor's flu wasn't getting any better so Buttercup cooked minestrone soup for dinner. Even though Blossom's competitive side didn't like to admit it, she had to acknowledge the fact that Buttercup was the best cook out of the sisters.

The three girls sat awkwardly around the kitchen table, spooning up the hot soup in complete silence. Buttercup still tended to serve her meals too hot for comfort but Blossom had grown used to it.

The blue puff seemed very disinterested in her meal. While Blossom and Buttercup wolfed down the soup, she sat with her hands clasped on the table, her eyes glazed and thoughtful.

"What's up with you?" Blossom asked after swallowing a mouthful of soup. Bubbles flicked her head to her, nearly smacking the redhead in the face with her hair. Her strong, fruity perfume made Blossom gag.

"I'm fine," she snapped, her blue eyes narrowing. There was a long pause where Buttercup stared at the two, spoon frozen, halfway to her mouth. Eventually Blossom turned away from the piercing blue eyes and back to her soup nervously.

"You coming backstage?" Buttercup asked casually, obviously trying to cheer up the hostile atmosphere. Bubbles' eyes slid back onto Blossom's pink ones and the redhead gulped. The blond didn't say anything, just pursed her lips and arched her fingertips waiting for an answer.

"How'd you hear about that? Did Mr. Ginger tell you?" Blossom sniped, feeling an angry flush rise to her cheeks just thinking about the nasty, little creep. She gave a start of surprise when she heard her blond-haired sister's tinkling laugh from beside her.

"Mr. Ginger wouldn't tell Buttercup anything. He told _me_," she said, smiling smugly. Blossom blinked.

"Well I decided I'd go…" she whispered, feeling self-conscious and hating herself for it. She saw her two sisters grinning at each other, although Bubbles' smile turned out rather wolfish.

There was another awkward pause.

"Who exactly is Mr. Ginger anyway?" Blossom asked curiously as she picked at her empty bowl. She blinked again as Bubbles and Buttercup turned to glare at her as if she'd just asked a very offensive question.

"Why is that any of your business?" Bubbles hissed, her voice a deadly whisper. She stood up abruptly, taking her untouched bowl of soup over to the kitchen sink. Giving her sister one more withering glance, she flounced out of the room.

Blossom stared after her, mouth half-open. She turned to look at Buttercup, confusion etched on her face. Her green-eyed sister shrugged and stood up to exit, leaving Blossom alone.

* * *

In the room the sisters had shared since birth, Blossom stared miserably at the ceiling while listening to the calming sound of the shower across the hall. _Tougher, _she reminded herself. _I have to act tougher. Stop acting like a pushover. _

Bubbles was taking a shower, one step in her massive routine in looking good to go out. Buttercup, who normally took no interest in that type of thing, was now carefully going through the wardrobe to figure out what to wear. Blossom frowned slightly. It was a very out-of-character thing for the green puff to do. Normally she was the last person to worry about her appearance. It was a quality Blossom admired in her.

She closed her eyes and sprawled out more on her bed and listened to the water rushing from the bathroom. She was thinking about Mr. Ginger again…the mysterious, disturbing little guy who had seemed to pop into Townsville out of nowhere. Who was he? Why did her sisters refuse to speak of him? She'd ask about him tonight at Otto's Club…if she didn't freak out and ditch the place like before.

Didn't he give Blossom his card? Remembering his long nails scraping her arm, she winced. He had when she first met him. Where had she put it? Sitting up, she went through her bedside cabinet looking for the card desperately. She couldn't explain why Mr. Ginger had suddenly captured her interest. There was something slightly familiar about him that she couldn't put her finger on.

After five minutes of anxious searching, ignoring the odd looks she was receiving from Buttercup, she found it. A small, flimsy piece of paper less then half the size of her palm. It was difficult to read it so she held it up to the light.

_The door is always open. _

Beneath the delicate letters was a childish drawing of a door. Blossom turned the paper over trying to find something else. Nothing. Giving a sniff of frustration she plunged it into her pocket.

Bubbles entered a few minutes later, a towel wrapped around her dripping form. Not giving her sisters a second glance she lunged at the wardrobe and started dragging clothes out trying to find something to wear.

"I think I shouldn't wear all that heavy make-up like I did last time. The guys down at the club prefer a naturel look," she commented casually while she searched through her outfits. Unusually casual. Blossom was starting to detest her two sisters unpredictable mood swings.

"They like me looking younger…" the blond sister said in quieter voice, almost as if she was talking to herself. Blossom repressed a shudder.

"Why would they want you to seem younger? That's a bit creepy don't you think?" She queried, her voice breaking Bubbles out of her trance. Buttercup snorted contemptuously and turned away, shaking her head. Bubbles just grinned a patronizing smirk.

"Blossom, if I thought a guy was acting weird I could just bash him up. I am a superhero after all," she giggled acting like she was explaining one plus one to a four-year-old.

The sisters turned away from here, avidly discussing makeup and clothes, ignoring their sister. Hating them both, Blossom stood up and stormed out of the room. She was so sick of them acting like she was some sort of mentally-challenged idiot. She was smarter then the both of them. Her intelligence was what she was famous for.

_Who cares if you have a brain, _the snide voice in her head whispered. _They're still better then you. At least they have a social life unlike you. You're just a nerd._

Blossom scrunched up her eyes and tried to block that awful voice from her mind. She floated over to the Professor's bedroom to check on him.

Professor Utonium was looking terrible. His head was propped up with three extra pillows and he had a hot-water bottle on his forehead. He was snoring, making an unpleasant phlegmy noise and he was as pale as paper.

Blossom floated over to pick up his dirty, soup bowl and drew his blankets around him tighter. The Professor caught bugs a lot easier then his daughters, especially now as he was getting older.

Blossom was growing used to this, though. The Professor was human after all and even though she didn't like to admit it, she had grown to accept that she wasn't. She was made from kitchen ingredients and Chemical X.

She just had to get used to that slightly unnerving fact.

* * *

An hour later the sisters were ready to hit the road. Trying to make up for their earlier arguments, Blossom decided to comment on Bubbles' outfit.

"That dress really suits you, sis," she said smiling. Bubbles turned from her conversation with Buttercup and grinned back.

"I know right?" She replied and then her voice lowered and she muttered something that sounded suspiciously like _have to impress Him…_

The pink puff blinked slightly. Impress Him?

"I doubt Him is concerned about something as shallow as looks," Buttercup smirked, her face smug. The blue puff's face darkened, a storm cloud going over her face.

She whipped around to her sister and hissed, "what would you know? You've only been a dancer for a few days. You don't know Him like I do. He trusts me…he likes me."

When she turned back Blossom saw the strange look of insecurity etched in her features and Buttercup's jealous glare.

When they reached Otto's Club, Bubbles beckoned her sisters to the alleyway situated next to it.

"We're going backstage remember?"

The alleyway was littered with garbage and smelt like urine and blood. God knows what had gone on in this sleazy place. Bubbles led the three down the alleyway until she reached a battered wooden door. She smirked at the two and put a finger to her lips. She knocked at the door strongly.

There was a flurry of noise from the other side of the door and after ten minutes it creaked open a crack. Blossom briefly saw a pair of cold, grey eyes before the door slammed shut again. There was the sound of muffled laughter and after another five minutes the door swung open fully.

Bubbles gave them both a curt little smile and jerked her thumb in the direction of the door. Buttercup strode in, her scarlet, lipstick covered mouth stretching into a wide grin. The pink puff glanced at Bubbles, the familiar feeling of unease coming to her again.

"After you," the blue puff said quietly and Blossom uncertainly slid in, hearing her sister's steps behind her. Immediately she was plunged into hot, sticky darkness.

She whipped around when she heard the door creak shut behind her. She saw blue eyes float over to the far end of the dark room, to a bunch of steps, lighted with a dusty, red glow. After a few minutes she saw something emerge from the shadows…an arm with a lobster-like claw at the end. It snaked its way around Bubbles' arm and drew her back into the shadows.

Blossom felt her mouth drop open. Was that…?

"Blossom! Come with me!" The familiar voice of her raven-haired sister demanded. As her hand gripped the redhead's, Blossom looked around.

Otto's Club backstage wasn't as dark as the other front area. It was much hotter, though, which seemed impossible. So hot that after five seconds Blossom was completely drenched in sweat. There was a big dark-red velvet curtain, which she assumed separated the backstage from the clubbers on the other side. The throbbing music was duller here and she could make out the shapes of people easier. Most of the people she could see were dressed in scanty clothing and lingerie. With most of them she couldn't exactly tell what the gender was. They all looked at her in interest as she passed and she waved awkwardly.

After floating through the red-tinged space for a few minutes Buttercup found a place to sit down. It was at the far corner of the backstage area, next to the dusty-smelling crimson curtains. Three teenagers were sprawled out in a semi-circle, passing around a paper cup. They looked up and smiled when they saw the green-puff.

The two sat down and squeezed into the semi-circle. A sandy-haired, heavily-built girl passed Buttercup the paper cup and she took a swig.

"Hey, Blossom. I'm Mary, we used to got to kindergarten together," she greeted and the pink puff blinked. She shook her slightly sweaty hand and smiled.

The other two teens were people she hadn't met before. One was a slim, Asian girl who introduced herself as Sammie. The last one was scruffy guy who looked like he was stoned, named Jared.

"Is there alcohol in this?" Blossom asked as she was passed the paper cup. The four teens all chuckled.

"No dummy. It's lemonade. We got it to fight the heat," Mary said. Taking a sip she was surprised at how well the drink cooled her down.

The teenagers began gossiping with one another. Blossom felt strangely at ease backstage, more so then her previous visits to Otto's Club. The four laughed at everything she said and seemed very nice.

_A bit too nice, _a concerned voice piped up in the back of her head. She ignored it.

"So where's all da criminal's disappeared to dease days?" Sammie queried in her slightly accented voice. Buttercup's emerald eyes flickered to hers.

"Yeah…none of the older crims seem to be around anymore," Jared added, ruffling his already untidy hair.

It was true. Most of the criminals from the early days of crime fighting had seemingly disappeared like a teardrop in the rain.

Blossom could explain only a few. Ace from the Gang Green Gang had blasted a man's face off when she was eleven and was now in prison for life. Without a leader the gang had drifted apart. A few baddies like the Amoeba Boys and Princess still appeared occasionally but everyone else seemed to have given up on Townsville.

"Perhaps there getting too old to cause mayhem anymore," Buttercup said thoughtfully, studying her hands. Maybe…most of the villains the girls fought had been adults when they were younger. Maybe they just got too old. That didn't sound right to Blossom. She didn't believe some of them would go down without a fight.

"Anyway the Rowdyruff Boys were the same age as you. Why would they disappear?" Mary asked, taking a sip from the paper cup.

"I'm glad those creeps are out of our hair. Even though they're all as dumb as planks they're sometimes too tough to handle," Buttercup replied bitterly, avoiding eye-contact with the others. There was silence for a few minutes as they all remembered the past villains of Townsville.

"I've got to go to the bathroom," Blossom mumbled, standing up. No-one replied, just remained in thoughtful trances.

Blossom looked around the musty backstage, looking for a loo. As her eyes went over one side of the velvet curtains, she spotted something. A snow-white face sticking out from under the curtains, staring right at her. A hand trailed out and beckoned to her. Blossom blinked and the face was gone.

The pink puff rubbed her eyes and stared at the spot the face had been. Was she going insane? She floated briskly over to spot and lifted the curtains, surprised at how heavy it was. It was as so dark, she couldn't see a few centimetres in front of her.

"Hello?" She called out into the darkness. Silence. She squirmed her way under the velvet curtains and looked around. After a few minutes her eyes adjusted to the pitch-black gloom. She was surrounded by two walls of red velvet. She looked up and the curtains seemed to go on forever. The scarlet drapes formed a narrow hallway. The floor was dusty, wooden and creaky, like something out of a horror film.

Blossom stood up, feeling nervous.

"Hello?" She repeated, shaking a little. From next to her, the drapes lifted and the pale face grinned up at her.

"C'mon in," the squeaky voice commanded. After hesitating, Blossom ducked under, to find a place exactly the same as the one she had just left. Only this time a handful of beady eyes were staring up at her, reminding Blossom of rats.

"You're a Powerpuff right?" A squeaky voice asked and she nodded in the dark. She had started to wish she had stayed in the company of Buttercup and her friends. These people were very unnerving.

"You should totally become a dancer. It's really cool," another voice whispered and she took a step back. She needed to get away from here…right now.

She turned to fly away from this place as fast as she could. Before she could, a hand grabbed her foot and she gave a gasp of surprise.

"We were just thinking, Blossom…don't you want to be cool?" The little, high-pitched voice queried, sending shivers down her spine. She paused and looked into the beady, watery eyes and considered its offer.

"Only the most awesome people would dare take some of these," it said and she heard clicks and whispers of agreement. She felt the thing push something into her hand. It felt like a tiny bottle. She shook it and heard the rattle of pills.

"Drugs?" She snapped hoarsely. Did they think she was stupid?

"Of course not. Why would we want you to take drugs? Him would punish us severely if anything bad happened to you," the voice sniggered.

She thought about it for awhile. They were right. Why would they try to get Blossom hurt if Him wanted her?

She screwed the bottle open and tipped a pill into her palm. The clicking, snickering noises grew louder.

"Blossom? Get away from them! Put that down!" She heard a familiar screech from behind her. The strange beasts surrounding her gave noises of disapproval and she felt a cold hand clasp around her neck. Two fingers forced themselves into her mouth, forcing it open.

"Eat up," the giggling voice whispered, pouring the entire contents of the bottle down her throat. Blossom swung her fist around and slammed it into the little body, sending it flying. She swallowed the pills roughly.

Immediately she felt dizzy. Her entire body was suddenly so cold it was like she had plunged herself into a frozen lake, naked. Spit formed in her mouth and she fell to her knees, frothing like a dog with rabies. Her nose was bleeding and she could taste the coppery taste on her tongue.

The side of her head hit the ground with a dull thud and the sounds around her grew muffled. She thought she heard cackling laughter.

"_You stupid bitch!"_

"_You've killed my sister!"_

"_Him needed her unconscious, you fool!"_

"_You've given her too much! She's dying!"_

"_Him is going to be furious."_

_"I don't give a fuck about Him!"_

"_He doesn't want her like this. She's overdosed."_

"_I've got to get her to the Professor."_

Then there was silence. Weakly she felt strong arms lifting her up. Blossom's head lolled helplessly and she closed her eyes.

"_Stay with me, sis!"_

Darkness engulfed her and she felt the silence overwhelm her body.


	6. Tension

_**We are small but we are many.  
We are many we are small.  
We were here before you rose.  
We will be here when you fall.**_

_She knew she was dreaming. She felt like she was floating on a fluffy, warm cloud in the sky. Sunlight was streaming in from behind her eyelids and she seemed to be coated in a deep, golden glow._

_Then suddenly she was thrown into a deep, blood red space. Rising from the middle of this mysterious room was a tall, spiky, crimson throne. She heard a pained, rattling wheeze echo through the air. Feeling her heart thump in her chest, she eased closer. There was something slumped on the pointed throne. Its head was thrown back in agony and horrible rasping noises were crackling from its throat. _

"_W-w-water…" it begged, reaching for her with a leathery black claw. She stumbled back in disgust as the talons stretched towards her. _

"_P-p-please…"_

Blossom shuddered and twitched slightly under her covers. Her head was full of fog and she felt hot and shivery. After a few minutes she realized she was lying in her bed and that meant she had somehow managed to get home. Memories from backstage come oozing back into her mind.

Had she been drugged? She remembered snippets of conversation that led her to believe Him was involved with her current predicament. Why would Him do something as common as drugging her? That didn't sound like him at all. That was something an ordinary rapist would do. Another thing to worry about was what sort of drug could knock a Powerpuff Girl out. It had to be extremely powerful to do so much damage to her.

Blossom lay thinking about this, feeling scared. She had never felt so vulnerable before. Him had been able to inflict serious harm on her. What else could he do? She had completely forgotten what he had gotten up to when she was younger. This was like a ghastly wake-up call.

She heard footsteps coming up the corridor. The door creaked open and she desperately tried to open up her eyes. She felt a cool hand rest on her forehead.

"Is she okay?" The familiar voice of her black-haired sister asked. Buttercup sounded very worried. Suddenly she remembered drinking lemonade with her backstage.

"She's fine," a cold voice replied. She recognized it as Bubbles. She sounded angry. Very angry.

"Stop looking at me like that," Buttercup snapped.

"I didn't know they attacked her under Him's command. You know how they lure people under the curtain and do God knows what…I thought they were hurting her for their own sick amusement."

Finally, Blossom's eyes opened a sliver. She saw the back of Bubbles' blond head a few centimeters away from her. Her body was straight and tense and her arms crossed. Blossom could tell how mad she was by the fury radiating off her body.

"I don't give a shit about what you say, Buttercup," she hissed, her voice low.

"You fucked up his plan. He was going to give her one pill to make her powerless for the night and you ran in and screwed it up. You made the Rats panic and give her the whole bottle. It's your entire goddamned fault she's like this. I knew we shouldn't have trusted you so soon."

Blossom felt herself go cold. This couldn't be true. She was dreaming this conversation. She had to be.

"He's smart, Bubbles. You can't believe that was his only plan. He's not stupid enough to rely on a little pill and a bunch of Rats. He'll get her soon," Buttercup replied in a weaker voice. She was fiddling with her shirt and Blossom noticed the ugly looking scar slicing through her cheek. She didn't have to think hard of who gave it to her.

"He can't get her now with the Professor watching her twenty-four seven. You don't understand how wea…" Bubbles stopped suddenly and looked around the room nervously as if expecting someone hiding there, listening in. Blossom quickly screwed her eyes shut.

"Weak? What do you mean he's weak?" Buttercup asked in a low, confused voice.

There was a long, uneasy silence and Blossom felt her skin prickle with goosebumps. It seemed like hours had passed when Bubbles spoke again.

"Do you really expect me to tell you anything? You've already proven yourself to be untrustworthy," her voice was blank and emotionless, like a machine. It made Blossom want to walk up and shake her and demand where on earth the real Bubbles had gone.

Then finally the red-head heard their footsteps disappear down the hallway. She was too scared to open her eyes again…they might be floating over her bed, ready to pounce on her as soon as she opened them. She felt horrified…she was scared of her own sisters. Her own sisters had been plotting against her all this time…how could this have happened?

Her head felt heavy and full of fog…she felt herself nodding off again. Soon she was fast asleep.

Blossom dreamed of red eyes and painted nails scraping into her arm.

"_The door is always open."_

"_Come back soon."_

"_We were here before you rose…"_

She didn't know how much time had passed. What had been dreams and what had been reality? Blossom didn't want to know. Her head felt clearer and her eyelids not as heavy. She opened her eyes slowly.

She saw the Professor leaning against the doorframe, looking at her with squinted eyes. He didn't look well enough to be out of bed. Blossom tried to say something, tried to explain. She tried to warn him about what she had heard earlier but it all sounded so stupid now. His eyes narrowed further and the look of disappointment written all over his face was worse than any lecture. He didn't leave his spot from the doorway. He just bit his lip.

"You're old enough now," he said slowly, staring at the ceiling as if it was too difficult for him to just look at her when he spoke.

"I can't make choices for you. That's your job now."

There was a long pause where Blossom felt guilt surge through her body.

"And I can't baby you any longer. I've got to let you grow up without me by your side. I've got to let you make your own decisions."

Blossom was fully aware of the tears streaming down her cheeks and the snot running from her nose. She felt humiliated and she hated it. The Professor didn't say anything else. He stood there in the doorway looking at her cry and she saw his own watery eyes. He turned and began to leave.

"P-P-Professor!" She called after him weakly. "Dad!"

He stopped and focused on her again. The inside of her mouth dried up and she knew she couldn't say anything to make him trust her again. She couldn't say a thing to make him come over and give her a hug and offer her a hot chocolate. He was right. He wasn't going to baby her anymore and nothing she could say would change his mind.

"What was the drug they gave me? How did it hurt me so bad?" She asked instead. The Professor crossed his arms and shrugged.

"It's a pretty simple drug, really. They must have found something that reacts toxically with Chemical X. A little bit would render you helpless. Too much…well you can see for yourself."

He left after that. Left Blossom alone to cry helplessly in her bed. Why had she been stupid enough to think being one of Him's dancers was a good idea? Why had she been so naïve and clueless? Why had she fallen so blindly into his and her sister's trap?

_Because you didn't listen to me, _old Blossom laughed snidely. _Don't say I didn't tell you so. _

The redhead felt too weak to get up but she didn't feel tired enough to fall asleep. So she stared at the cracks in the ceiling berating herself on how stupid she had been. She did this until the room grew dark and she was suddenly cold and alone. She felt exhausted from all the crying and she rolled over, pulling the warm blankets over her head.

She tried to fall asleep for a few minutes when the door creaked open again. She felt her insides clench in fear when she realized she hadn't heard any footsteps. That meant her visitor had floated in…and she knew two people living in the house who could float.

"Bloosssom…" the sneering voice of Bubbles whispered. The pink puff tried hard to pretend to be asleep.

"I know you're awake, sis. You can't fool me," the frosty voice of her sister snarled. Blossom hesitantly pulled the covers away from her face and looked at her. Bubbles had become so pale she seemed to glow in the dark room. Her once golden hair had become wispy and unhealthy looking. Her eyes were glaring down at her like she was a disgusting insect on her shoe.

"I know you've been through a terrible ordeal and I was _very _worried about you," Bubbles simpered in a sickly-sweet voice. She patted her sister on the arm and Blossom recoiled. Her hands were horribly cold…almost dead-like.

"Him was very concerned about your well-being last night. He doesn't want you to feel uncomfortable in any way," Bubbles recited and Blossom felt a surge of déjà vu. She snatched her arm away from the cold fingers and stared at her sister in shock. The blue puff blinked at her expression.

"Well…what I'm trying to say is…Him wants you to visit again soon. We might even be able to arrange for you to become a dancer in a couple of nights."

Blossom stared at her and felt a mounting sense of terror surge through her body. No way was she ever going to be a dancer. She didn't care if she was cool or not. Why had she been so caught up in such a superficial thing? How could she tell Bubbles that? How would she react?

_Toughen up, _a voice growled in her head. _She may be acting different but your still stronger then her. You could beat her up with a hand tied behind your back. Just tell her. _Blossom took three deep breaths to calm herself down. _I'm not scared of you. I'm not._

"Bubbles…" She whispered and she watched the blond girl's face darken as if she knew exactly what Blossom was going to say.

"Bubbles, I don't want to be a dancer anymore. I don't care about being cool or not. Him tried to kill me last night. I'm never going near him again, okay!" Blossom hated the way her voice was becoming high-pitched and screechy. Anyone could tell she was scared out of her mind.

"You're being paranoid, sis. Him cares for you very much. He'd never try to hurt you," Bubbles hissed through clenched teeth. Her fingers were gripping Blossom's blankets so hard, her knuckles were going white.

"I don't care! I'm not going and nothing you can do will make me!" The redhead hollered back. Her cheeks were going bright red from yelling so hard.

Bubbles was silent. The bedroom was dark and the blue-white moonlight shining through the window made her look like some ghastly apparition.

"Well," she said finally, her voice empty and mechanical again. She smoothed the creases away from the blankets and Blossom saw the bright red scars spiraling up her arm. Again, she didn't have to think hard of who gave them to her.

"You've made your decision and I won't try and change it for you. You can choose to do what you want," the blond girl stroked back Blossom's hair, almost in a motherly way. She straightened her nightie and turned, drifting out of the room, her toes skimming over the carpet gently. Blossom watched feeling confused. Why had she taken it so calmly?

As if reading her mind, Bubbles turned in the doorway and smirked at her.

"I hope the Professor gets well soon. Don't you want him to get better too, sis?" She said. With another leer she turned and left, the door swinging shut behind her.

What did she mean by that? Suddenly Blossom felt her insides grow cold. The conversation kept on playing over and over in her mind. She should have handled herself better…and what was Bubbles talking about when it came to the Professor?

Too many thoughts were clouding up her head. Feeling very tired, Blossom pulled the blankets over her head again and drifted off to sleep.

"…_we will be here when you fall."_

**

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A/N Sorry for the long wait again. My bad. Thanks a whole bunch to Deus Ex Procella for beta-reading my stuff and to everyone whose reviewed. If you have any questions feel free to ask! Also the freaky poem at the start is from the book Coraline by Neil Gaiman. Cya in the next chapter!


	7. Innocence

_Owww…my stomach…_

Blossom was wrenched awake from her dreams of red blood and dead fingers, and back into her room. Her stomach was cramping up and she whimpered in pain. She curled herself into a ball underneath the stifling warmness of her blankets. It was too cold and dark in this stupid room.

She was feeling wide awake and the fog in her head had cleared. What was the time? Why was her stomach hurting so badly? She slid out of her bed and stared at the white sheets in shock. The sheets were stained bright red.

Cursing under her breath she drifted over to the calendar hanging on the wall above the mirror. Yes. The date was marked with a big capital letter P, circled and underlined. Damn.

She drifted over to the door and was about to open it when she paused. She peered nervously out into the corridor. The moonlight made the corridor glow a strange, blue-white. She looked up and down the cold hallway a few times. No-one.

She looked back into the bedroom which she had shared with her sisters since birth. Both of their beds were empty and clearly hadn't been used in awhile. Where were they sleeping? Did they even sleep at all?

_Don't be stupid, _Blossom told herself, shaking her head. She drifted down into the bathroom and opened the cupboard. Three toothbrushes, each color-coded pink, green and blue sat in a small jar. Toothpaste, a black comb and a bunch of multi-colored hair-ties sat next to the jar. She searched desperately through the cupboard a few times and let out a sigh of frustration.

Blossom stared at herself in the mirror and bit her lip. Her red hair was a big mess, sticking up around her head and her eyes were gummed up with sleep. She looked terrible. Her stomach cramped painfully again and she doubled over in agony. She had never gotten stomach cramps this bad. Her period had never been this heavy either.

Whimpering a little, she stumbled out of the bathroom and back into the corridor. The house felt eerily silent and empty and it made the pink puff shiver. She looked at the clock hanging on the wall. It was half past one in the morning. Straightening her bloodied nightie she tried to float back into her room.

Sobs…she heard harsh, brutal sobs echoing from her bedroom. Feeling her heart begin to hammer uncomfortably in her chest again, she floated up to the door. She saw a dark shape huddled on the floor clutching onto something. The desperate weeping grew louder as she eased into the room.

"B-Buttercup?" The red-head whispered as she drew closer. The green puff was sprawled on the carpet, clutching the big green alligator doll she had played with when she was a little girl. Blossom remembered the Professor had gotten it for her the very first day they were born.

"B-Buttercup…" she wanted to say something normal, something that wasn't cryptic and confusing, just like the past few weeks had been.

"Can I borrow a tampon?"

Buttercup hiccupped, and chuckled weakly. She wiped the snot away with the back of her hand and turned her red-rimmed eyes to her sister. Her face was marked with slashes and cuts and her raven-hair was shaggy and unkempt.

"S-s-sure…" she said, biting into the alligator's worn tail. She pointed to the desk and feeling awkward, Blossom shuffled over and grabbed the packet. Buttercup was crying without a noise now and Blossom had no idea what to do. Pat her on the shoulder and give her hug? What if the crying was a big act and as soon as Blossom touched her, the green puff would leer and grab her with her strong hands?

"He doesn't take it all at once you know," the girl on the floor whispered, not looking at her sister. She hugged the plush toy harder and Blossom felt confused. Against her better judgment, she got down on her knees and crawled over to put a comforting arm around the weeping girl. They had never done this before. Blossom always comforted Bubbles when they were kids, while telling off Buttercup. She had stepped into the mother role without thinking twice about it and even at that young age, she worried about her two sisters like a parent.

That had changed when they got older. She was too busy worrying about her own normal problems and the responsibilities of being a superhero; she hadn't given her sisters a second thought.

She thought about it guiltily as she hugged her sister.

"Take what?" She asked as she stroked Buttercup's hair. The girl sniffed and hugged her tightly back, like a child does to its mother.

"He takes bits of it, a little at a time, so no-one notices until it's too late," she said, not paying attention to her sister's question. Her voice was choked up with emotion. Blossom felt something cold surge through her veins.

"What, Buttercup? Take what?" She broke away from the hug and held her sister at arm's length. The emerald-eyed girl stopped sniffling and stared at Blossom with a guilty look on her face.

"I've got enough of it left…it still hurts," she whispered and looked away. The shining moonlight made the crimson scars on her cheek stand out grotesquely. Blossom grabbed the girl's shoulders roughly and shook her hard.

"What are you talking about?" All the fear and frustration she had held in for the past few weeks seemed to be tumbling out. Now she wanted to rage and scream and curse like she'd never allowed herself to do before. For the first time she wanted to lose control instead of having to bottle everything in all the time.

"_What the fuck is going on?" _She shrieked and instantly felt shocked at herself. She had never used that word before, only in her head. She felt so angry she felt like screaming it at the top of her lungs again and again until her voice gave out.

Buttercup had stopped crying fully now and a blank, empty expression had worked itself onto her face. Now it was the pink puff who was crying, tears running down her cheeks.

"What did he take?" She whimpered, screwing up her fists. There was a silence…a cold empty silence that was occasionally interrupted by a sniffle. Silently, the green puff took hold of her sister's hands and squeezed them gently. After a few minutes she drew one hand slowly up to her chest. Blossom felt Buttercup's heart beating slowly through her t-shirt and she suddenly felt horrified. She dropped her hand from her sister's cold grip. Buttercup blinked sadly at her and stood up.

"That's what he takes…" she muttered and then she was gone, disappearing down the corridor.

Blossom sat there, clutching the old toy alligator and cried softly. She could smell the saltiness of tears and the copper, metallic tang of blood. What had caused Buttercup to start crying when she was normally the puff who never showed emotion? What had bought it on?

She hugged the plush toy…the one that the Professor had given Buttercup so long ago. The Professor…

…and suddenly she was so scared she couldn't breathe. She stood up, the tears gone and dropped the toy on the ground. Her heart was thundering in her chest so hard it hurt and she had gone cold and clammy.

"_I hope the Professor gets well soon. Don't you want him to get better too, sis?"_

She was running, running down the hall, thoughts and ideas exploding through her head like fireworks. She reached the end of the hall and saw the half-open door. It was too cold…it was too dark…the Professor never kept his door open at night. _He never did. _

The room was glowing dark blue and she briefly saw blond hair out of the corner of her eye. She paid no attention to it and instead she walked slowly to her father's bed. She felt like she was walking underwater, the noises were dim, her legs dragged and her breath caught painfully in her throat.

Blank, black eyes stared at the ceiling, seeing nothing. Spit dried on white, cold skin and she reached for it. She felt for a pulse and found nothing. No flutter, no weak beating…there wasn't a thing. The only father figure she had, the only parent she had…and he was gone. Gone just like that. It was absurd…it was bizarre. He couldn't be gone…he was asleep…he was asleep…

She felt empty. Empty and alone.

"Poor man," a soft voice whispered. She didn't look around. She already knew who it was.

"Hanging around all those chemicals and viruses all day wasn't good for his health. Everyone was expecting this anyway…no-one will make a fuss," the cold voice whispered. She felt a hand on her shoulder and she didn't bother to shake it off.

"Those poor girls, people will say. Good people like them don't deserve this tragedy. They don't have any family left. They have to stick together now."

Rage surged through her and she turned around, shoving the hand aside. She glared into the soulless blue eyes and she felt a horrible feeling of hatred towards the thing who used to be her sister.

"Stick together?" She repeated and she saw white-hot light flash before her eyes.

The white light grew brighter and before she knew what she was doing she had slammed her fist into the thing's face with every ounce of strength she had.

There was a loud scream of shock and pain and she smiled. Turning on her heel she raced down the hall and into her room. She grabbed the first few things she saw, the old alligator, a few pairs of clothes and her wallet. Blinking she saw the tiny slip of paper on her bedside table.

_The door is always open._

She snatched it up and threw the whole jumble of junk into an old backpack.

She looked back at her old room. It didn't look welcoming and cozy anymore. It was just a cold shell of what used to be something she loved.

_Just like her…_the thought went through her mind and her stomach cramped so painfully she nearly fell down.

"Blossom!" A terrible screech echoed through the house and the pink puff turned and flew out the window, away from her life and into the cold black night.

"You can never escape from us!" The voice taunted and she flew harder, the backpack banging at her thigh. She flew for what seemed like hours and hours, the freezing cold air attacking her underdressed body. She should have gotten out of her nightie and worn something warmer.

She willed herself desperately to cry. That's what you did when people died. Big, dramatic, sad music played in the background and you hugged everyone, tears streaming down your cheeks. You threw yourself to the ground and screamed Noooo! in an exaggerated voice, pounding your chest in fury. That's what they did on TV. So why couldn't she do it now?

She landed on the pavement and flinched. The coldness of the concrete stung her feet and she looked around. She was on a busy street in the middle of Townsville's business district. The streets were empty now. The people of Townsville had early bedtimes and not one sign of life could be seen.

_Sign of life…_the phrase repeated itself and she couldn't feel a shred of emotion in her. She was as bare and blank as the cold street before her and she was cold…so god-damned cold.

She walked slowly down the street, relishing the painful sting in her feet. She was alone…so alone and it hurt so badly. She wanted to howl like an old dog in labor and beat her fists on the concrete until her fists were ripped and bleeding. She wanted her dad and she wanted him to hug her tight.

None of these things happened. Instead she collapsed in a foul, dirty alleyway and hugged her freezing body, trying to get warm. A rat crawled over her hand and she ignored it. Let the rats eat her alive for all she cared. Then she wouldn't have to live through this anymore.

She saw the dirty, ragged old hobo clasping a big overcoat to keep warm, sitting across from her. He winked at her and scratched his crotch vulgarly. She narrowed her eyes until they were tiny slits of hatred.

_Try it. _She wanted to hiss. _I dare you. I fucking dare you. C'mon try me, you dirty old bastard. You try to touch me and I'll rip off your head and shit down your neck. _

Her hatred was like a fire growing in her heart. The hobo must have seen it in her eyes because he didn't try anything. He just sent her evil look as if to say, _you think you have it tough? Ha. Yeah right. _Then he turned around and was silent.

She got out the warm, snuggly, alligator from her backpack. She hugged it tight and smelt its stink of mustiness and heat. Biting into its tail she cuddled it, ignoring the dull, throbbing pain in her stomach.

Closing her eyes she remembered the faint, murky memories of building the city of Townsville with a bunch of building blocks. Buttercup crashing in with the alligator over her head, growling and imitating a monster's roars. Yelling at Buttercup about something stupid. They always fought like cats and dogs when they were young. Then Bubbles, sweet, cute Bubbles pretending to be the Mayor. Sweet, little Bubbles.

She remembered there other stuffed animals and babyish toys. Buttercup's security blanket which made her smile weakly now. Octi. Octi the stuffed octopus that Bubbles had adored so much. It had finally fallen apart when Bubbles was eight and she had cried for days when the Professor couldn't mend it.

Blossom had been secretly thankful. The octopus freaked her out with its sad eyes and happy smile. Why had that doll always scared her? She wracked her memories, trying to remember. She suddenly shuddered when she found it…Him.

Him of course. He had possessed it and nearly broken them up. He always targeted Bubbles, relied on her to carry out his plans. She was the first one to fall blindly for his traps and would drag the other two down with her. Just like she'd done now. She'd fallen into his web like a fly and he had eaten her up like a spider. Now she was trying to get her stuck in the web as well and was taking down anyone who stood in her way.

Just like the Professor…he hadn't been sick really. She remembered Bubbles bringing the Professor cups of coffee and hot chocolate. Making him sandwiches and cupcakes…back when she was still cute Bubbles. Had she been under his spell back then? Had she been secretly poisoning him until he was dead? Probably.

_He takes bits of it, a little at a time, so no-one notices until it's too late. _

Buttercup was next…soon her hair would become dull, he skin would go pale and cold and she would recite sugar-coated words to hapless victims to try and lure them in. Soon she would just become a cheap imitation of Buttercup.

Had that happened to Mr. Ginger? Who did he used to be? Why did Him and Bubbles trust him the most? Why was he familiar to her?

She hugged the old alligator tight and let the tears run freely. She wasn't a little girl anymore and she'd never be one again. But she wanted to pretend she was. Pretend she was in a time when everything made sense. Where the good guys were the people she loved and the bad guys always lost. Where everything was fun, sweet and nice. Where the Mayor wasn't sick and Mojo Jojo appeared daily to cause mayhem. Where Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup were the best of friends and the Professor was the tall guy who was the coolest man in the world. Where he was alive.

Where Him wasn't in her life and wasn't a thing to worry about.

Then she lay and cried in the dark, dirty alleyway, the old hobo's snores piercing her head like a knife. She hugged the old relic of her childhood and let the icy coldness of the night enveloped her bare, empty, bleeding body.

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**A/N Another chapter down! Woo! People better stick around cause the next chapter's a biggie...I've been looking forward to writing it since I started! (Evil laugh.) **


	8. Revelations

_Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to sleep here for the night…_

It was pouring down rain and wind wailed through the soaking wet streets. Blossom was completely saturated and she breathed out a thin cloud of mist. She shook uncontrollably as her eyes darted from side to side. The rain was belting down on her and the wind attacked her body like a sharp knife. The heavy rain drops felt like bullets drumming into her skin. The busy people hurrying by on their way to work took no notice of her as they tried to escape the storm.

_My fingers are blue; _she thought absent-mindedly to herself as she clutched herself into a ball and tried to get warm. Maybe…maybe she would get so cold she would die. She had never stayed this long out in the rain…except that one time all those years ago. What was it called? Hypothermia, yes…maybe she'd get hypothermia and die.

The thought of it sounded hilarious. She let out a shrill shriek of laughter. It felt good, hearing the wild, rusty noise escape her blue lips. It felt better seeing the shocked looks of the people passing her, staring at the strange thing huddled up in the alleyway, laughing like a madman.

Maybe they'd find her…her sisters and Him and Mr. Ginger…what would they do with her when they did? She welcomed them with open arms. She cackled again, tears of mirth rolling down her cheeks.

Then she couldn't think anymore…the world went dark and she gave out a wheeze of pain, closing her eyes.

There was light shining from behind her eyelids and she choked back a gasp.

"_What're youse doin' here? Stupid bitch, wanna kill yerself?" _

Blossom tried to open her eyes as strong arms wrapped around her waist. She kicked weakly and she heard someone curse. Then she felt herself disappear into the black emptiness again.

_She dreamt that she was on a big white beach, building a giant sandcastle. It was so big, Blossom could walk through the enormous gates into a sandy tunnel. The tunnel suddenly rumbled and sand started piling down on, crushing all the breath out of her body…_

Blossom's eyes opened so fast, the world spun slightly. She sucked in air and her heart pounded wildly in her chest. It took her a few seconds to realize she was no longer freezing cold and on the brink of death. She was warm and snug, tucked safely under an old, scratchy blanket. There was something sharp and pointy sticking into her back…she realized her body was stiff and aching and she sat up. She was lying on an old, worn mattress on the ground with the springs poking out of the fabric and into her back. She stared at her fingers and sighed with relief when she saw they were pink and normal, not blue and dead-like.

Blossom looked around. The mattress was lying in the middle of what looked like a spare room used for storing junk. There were piles of dusty magazines, books and broken toys. A smashed clock lay at the end of her bed and an old bicycle tyre had been tossed randomly over the grimy lampshade in the corner. Old beer cans lay everywhere and the whole place stank of alcohol. There were no windows in sight and the room was lighted with an eerie, fluorescent green.

The pink puff wrinkled her nose slightly as she picked up an old magazine. There was a half-naked girl sprawled on the cover and it was obviously a porn mag. She dropped it and flinched. She looked around again. She saw the damp, soaking toy alligator drying next to her head and a pair of fresh clothes folded near her, obviously meant for changing into. She stood up and quickly slid into the new clothes.

What was this place? Who had rescued her from freezing to death? Was it friend…or an enemy? She felt anxiety thrum through her body and she tensed up. Before she knew it, she had slid into a defensive stance with her fists clenched at her sides, preparing for attack. She darted her pink eyes around the room, looking for someone who might be crouching in the jumbled mess.

This place seemed different then Otto's Club. It was brighter and nowhere near as hot but the air seemed slightly stale and it was difficult to breathe. Blossom paused to think about this. The only place her enemies would take her would be Otto's Club or her own house and this clearly wasn't it. Maybe she was with friends not enemies…but who was it and where were they now?

She skittered over the floor, still in a defensive stance and opened the door. She found herself in a narrow corridor with low, wooden ceilings, lighted with the same unnerving fluorescent green. The place had a strange, empty feel to it, as if it wasn't a place that was used a lot.

Suddenly, there was a loud, angry yowl and a small, dark shape flashed past Blossom's feet. She jumped, giving a yell of surprise and without thinking she squinted her eyes, zapping out red lasers at the mystery object. There was another yowl and the shape turned to scratch at her legs and she realized the mysterious thing was in fact…just a harmless cat.

Blossom gave a sigh of relief as the cat continued to glare at her with its golden eyes, a furious meow escaping its body. It was a small, scrawny, long-legged animal with black fur, rusty brown splodges and a mean, narrow, pointed face.

"Who do you belong to, then?" She asked it softly, bending down to scratch it behind the ears. It immediately went to bite her and she snapped her hand away.

"Nasty thing," she said and watched as it flounced down the hall in a haughty fashion. Sliding back into her defensive stance, Blossom followed it. The cat led her up a flight of dusty, rickety stairs and down a hall, before reaching its destination. It raced through a half-open door and Blossom hesitated, before following it inside, ready for attack.

She found herself in a bare, empty room with two wooden crates serving as chairs. Sitting on one of the crates was one of the scruffiest looking guy's she had ever seen. The cat was curled up in his lap and they were both looking at her with identical distrustful looks.

"Hello," the guy said, scratching the cat behind the ears and squinting at her. He was bony, dirty and lanky, with a filthy mop of black hair and bloodshot, green eyes with grimy clothes. He was clutching a half-empty wine bottle and as Blossom stared at him, he took a big swig from it.

There was an awkward pause, where the two refused to speak. Blossom didn't trust the guy who looked to be the same age as her. There was something slightly off about him and his crazy, little cat. But she didn't have that huge feeling of uneasiness and fear that she did with Mr. Ginger and Bubbles. This person still felt human and she felt he was somehow not connected with Him.

She plonked herself on the crate next to him, wrinkling her nose at the strong smell of wine and an unwashed body. Blossom looked at the teen, crossing her arms. He stared back, cocking his head to the side and patting the feline in his lap. The pink puff felt questions go through her mind.

"Why did you save me?" She asked first, narrowing her eyes. The mysterious teenager shrugged his shoulders and turned his shaggy head away. He dropped the now empty wine bottle on the ground and Blossom winced at the sound of smashing glass. The cat jumped at the disturbance and sprinted over to curl around her legs. It had seemed to have forgiven her, because it leapt into her lap and licked her hand.

"Youse was just sittin' there for the whole world to see. They woulda found yer in a second and changed youse...into one of them," he slurred in a rough voice that sounded like it was hardly used. She gave her head a slight shake as she tried to place the familiar voice. So he was involved with this Him business…but he didn't seem like one of the opposite side. He didn't seem particularly good either. Her head spun with confused thoughts. Should she trust him or not?

"What is this place?" She said next and the boy refused to answer. The cat yawned in her arms and snuggled closer to her chest. There was another awkward silence. Although there were still heaps of questions on the tip of her tongue she didn't know how to say them. She had seemed to freeze up.

"Um…so…" she started, struggling to find something to say. The teen was still refusing to look at her, instead fixing his eyes to the ceiling.

"Nice cat. What's its name?" She said and trying to be friendly. It seemed to work. The boy smiled a grim sort of smile and sent a hand through his greasy hair.

"Boomer," he answered, smirking. Blossom blinked and looked down at the small, black shape in her arms. Eyes widening she looked up at the teen sitting across from her and recognition flooded through her. She stood up sharply, dropping the cat down to the ground, who gave a meow of annoyance.

"Butch!" She yelled, pointing an accusing finger in his face. He stared at her with his green eyes and nodded. Anger took over her mind. Why had she been stupid enough to drop her guard? Why hadn't she asked his name first? Why on earth hadn't she recognized him?

"You're taking me hostage, aren't you? You're preparing me for Him!" She shrieked hysterically, turning on her heel and racing out the room. Butch made no effort to stop her and stayed seated, rolling his eyes.

Blossom sped through the cramped, empty corridors, trying desperately to find a way out. Fear pumped through her veins and she found herself thinking someone would jump out at her from behind a corner. After sprinting up a staircase and running down a hall she found herself in a foyer. She smashed herself into the front door and attempted to open it. It was locked.

"Let me out!" She shrieked and using all her strength, she smashed it open. Freedom!

Blossom paused and confusion went through her. The front door had opened up to another small room with stairs leading up. Instead of a door at the top of the stairs there was a big heavy trapdoor. Blossom floated up to it and heaved it open, flinching at the loud creaking noise. She looked around. She was in a back room and to her front she saw a bar with an African-American bartender cleaning a glass. She was in an empty pub and the place beneath her was an underground cellar of some sort.

The hulking bartender turned to her and with a gasp she dropped back to the stairs, hearing the trapdoor clunk ahead of her. Heavy footsteps came to her and she heard the bartender whisper to her in a low voice.

"No need to be scared of me Miss. I know Butch and you are down there. He says you can leave whenever you please."

With that he left and the pink puff felt more baffled than ever. Was the man lying? Would he try to grab her if she tried to leave? She slid up from the trapdoor and tiptoed slowly into the pub. No-one seemed to care. She slid across the floor and opened the front door.

No-one tried to attack her and drag her back inside. She looked up and down the street. It was the bad, seedy side of town that she had always tried to avoid. Most of the shops were dark and shady-looking and the footpaths were covered in graffiti and rubbish. It was still pouring down rain.

Shivering in the cold she went back inside. Boomer the cat had jumped out from the trapdoor and was now slurping up milk from his saucer. Blossom felt a smile tweak at the sides of her lips.

_Where else could I stay? This is probably the only safe place now. _The thought made loneliness twang at her heart. Wrapping her arms around herself she walked slowly back through the pub and into the trapdoor. She made her way slowly through the narrow, green corridors until she was back to the empty room.

Butch hadn't moved an inch. He was now lazily rolling himself a cigarette and he didn't seem surprised to see her back.

"Calmed down?" He asked and the pink puff glared at him, slumping down onto the wooden crate.

_Stop acting like a hysterical drama queen, _she told herself, straightening up and trying to look intimidating. She tried to remember that natural confidence she had possessed as a child. She needed it now.

"You've got a lot of questions to answer, Butch," she snarled, folding her hands in her lap. Butch looked up at her beneath a curtain of dirty hair and popped the cigarette into his mouth. He lighted it quickly and took a deep drag from it.

"I don't need to answer nuthin'. I saved yer and youse can get out if yer wanna. I don't need to look after sum bossy bitch," he replied and the two teenagers shot each other hateful looks. Blossom felt all the heartbreak, fear and loneliness threaten to fizzle over the top and send her into a furious rage. She took a deep breath and calmed herself. She didn't want Butch to see the emotion bright in her eyes.

"I'm not leaving until I have some answers. I know you're involved with Him and I…" Blossom struggled to find the right words without betraying a shred of emotion. She saw Butch looking up at her and she despised the contemptuous look in his eyes.

"My father has been murdered by my sister," Blossom hissed and she took a long rattling breath, blinking back the wetness, stinging her eyes.

"My sisters have turned on me and want to hand me over to Him where who knows what he'll do to me. Soon Buttercup's going to be just like Bubbles and that _can't happen,_" She finished and crossed her arms refusing to break eye-contact with the teen who sat in front of her.

Butch snorted and breathed a cloud of cigarette smoke in her face. He wiped furiously at his eyes and looked away from her.

"Youse ain't the only one who's been affected by Him yer know," he snapped, not looking at her, still rubbing at his eye. Blossom raised an eyebrow.

"What has he ever done to you?" She asked and tried to make her voice as snide as possible. She tensed up when Butch's face contorted in hate and he half-raised his hand, like he was about to strike her. Then he clenched his fists and put them back down at his sides.

"It's too late for the little blond chick. Youse can't save her…" he muttered, changing the subject. Blossom felt her heart sink slowly and she demanded herself furiously not to cry. A small optimistic part of her had hoped that Bubbles would get better, change back to the sweet girl she used to be. Know she knew that was never going to happen. Bubbles was doomed.

"But the other one…err, Butterfly…"

"Butter_cup!" _Blossom snarled.

"Yeah whatever. Buttercup, well she still can be saved…she still has a bit of herself left…" There was a silence.

Why could Buttercup be saved and Bubbles couldn't? What exactly was it that Him had taken from them? Blossom screwed her eyes shut and tried to remember when the two had started to act strangely. She couldn't remember Bubbles but a sudden memory of two, scared emerald eyes shot out at her.

"It has something to do with the requirements," she whispered and Butch smirked. What really had happened up there with Him and Buttercup? Suddenly the thought of sex sounded extremely stupid.

"Him wouldn't be involved with something as common as that," she said rubbing her head. She remembered how she had immediately assumed it was sex when Bubbles had blushed so hard the first time they had talked about it. But no-one had ever specifically said it was sex, she had just thought it was. Bubbles or Buttercup had never really told her what the requirements really were. So what were they?

"Him isn't human an' he don't have human feelings. No way would he be involved with something like _that,_" Butch said and he looked at her like she was stupid. Confusion flooded her mind. If it wasn't sex what was it?

"It would've been similar to…yer know. Similar enough that they thought they were doing it with Him…but it ain't that. It's…" Butch paused again. Blossom remembered Buttercup's hand clutching hers and pulling it to her chest. The faint beat of a heart and words that didn't make sense back then…and everything clicked into place and she knew what the requirements were.

"He takes their souls. A little at a time so no one notices it," she said slowly and buried her face in her hands. She didn't care if Butch saw her crying now and she broke down into sobs. She opened her fingers a crack and saw him fiddling with his cigarette awkwardly, obviously feeling uncomfortable at her tears.

_Pull yourself together, _the voice in her head hissed and she lifted her head, aware of her puffy red eyes and runny nose.

"W-w-why doesn't Him just come and find me himself? Why hasn't he found you yet?" She said, trying to stop her voice from wavering. She faintly remembered Him when she was younger but not very well. He didn't appear often and when he did the fight was often exhausting, both on the physical and mental side of things. Then when she was around seven he had disappeared, much to the happiness of the sisters. Especially Bubbles who always said the demon liked to pick on her. They had laughed and said Him was unusually fond of her and Bubbles had glared at them and flown off.

She smiled fondly at the memory and looked over to Butch. He was staring at her with his head cocked. She recognized the distrust on his face. He didn't want to tell her anything…

"Him's weak. He can't just go and find us. Tha's why he's got the blond chick and…and...and…" Butch's voice was suddenly hitching and Blossom saw the tears glistening in his eyes. She narrowed her eyes. Bubbles and…

"…and Mr. Ginger," she finished and Butch took a deep breath as if the name was painful to him. Bits of info began to fall into place in Blossom's mind. Glowing red eyes…ginger hair that might've been red once. That surprising strength and the familiarity she couldn't put her finger on.

"What do you mean Him's weak? And what do you know about Mr. Ginger?" She said even though she half knew the answer. Butch wiped the tears angrily from his eyes and clenched his fists again.

"I ain't tellin' you nothin' about Him," he said hatefully but Blossom wasn't going to give up yet.

"Butch what happened to your brothers?" She asked and the grimy teenager stood up so suddenly, he knocked the crate over.

"You thinks youse are the only one been affected by Him, eh? Well youse ain't! Him…" He wiped at his eyes again and kicked at the crate furiously, sending it flying against the wall.

"Boomer's dead and Brick's even worse. If youse are as involved with Him as you say you are, you woulda met Brick heaps of times. Or what's left of him," he said and sat down heavily on the ground. He turned his face away from her and she knew he was doing it to hide his tears.

"He doesn't even call himself Brick anymore. Jus' fuckin' Mr. Ginger," he whispered and Blossom stared.

She remembered the little boy who she had fought when she younger. How he nearly killed her in their first battle and how she and her sisters had to resort to kissing to get rid of them. Then she remembered how he used to call them names to get on their nerves and gross them out with scabs and spit. Just a kid, like her, built to be evil.

Then she remembered paper white skin with scarlet lipstick and horrid makeup. Long purple painted nails and a smirk that made her feel sick. How he appeared out of the shadows and grabbed her as she tried to leave. Yellow teeth, faded ginger hair and fishnets. The two people couldn't be the same. Not Brick the arrogant jerk who used to whistle at every girl who walked by them when they were 13. Not Brick with his backward cap, which he thought looked so cool. Not Brick who used to make immature gagging noises whenever he saw her and call her an ugly nerd, while giving her the finger.

Mr. Ginger and Brick…they were two completely different people. Weren't they?

Butch had stopped crying and he took a shaky drag of his cigarette, choking out the smoke. Butch, the crazy psycho kid, who used to twitch with excitement whenever they were about to get in a fight. Butch, who now smelt like alcohol and dirt, who barely talked and the only memory of his family was a cat that shared one of their names.

Pathetic.

"Butch…" she started and the teenager looked up at her.

"Fuck off," he said and she stood up, nearly tripping over her feet as she walked to the door. At the doorway, she turned and saw him staring into space, a blank expression on his face.

"I'm not leaving, Butch," she said and he shrugged his bony shoulders, not answering.

She still had unanswered questions but she doubted Butch would tell her yet. He didn't trust her and she didn't trust him. She should…he had gone through similar, if worse experiences then her. But she didn't. She didn't trust him one little bit.

"We'll have to work on that, then," she said to herself and she slid down the wall, burying her head in her arms, not even caring when the cat came to curl up next to her.

* * *

**A/N Big chapter down! Originally I was going to answer some more questions but I decided to do that later. I'm evil I know. Before you ask, no there's not going to be any Butch/Blossom romance. This isn't a romance story and never will be. And I didn't just pull that Mr. Ginger/Brick thing outta thin air at the last minute. I've been planning it from the beggining. Reread the chapters, I tried to give hints, lol. We are now officially in the second part of the story, the first part is over! Stick around...please! Reviews are love! **


	9. Conversations

_Three floors._

_Four staircases._

_Twenty-four rooms, eight on each floor._

_Nineteen room not being used._

_Five of the rooms being used are as follows:_

_The bathroom, my new bedroom, the kitchen, the library and the room where Butch never seems to leave. _

_My bedroom is filthy and extremely disorganized. Must be cleaned immediately. Must also check out library. Under all circumstances, must avoid the room where Butch never seems to leave. _

It took a day and a half to clean up her bedroom without the help of her powers. A day and a half in a place that was depressing and empty. A day and a half in a place that was full of dust and stale air. A day and a half stuck by herself with only her confused and angry thoughts to keep her company.

A day and a half without a bath.

Blossom looked at her new spotless room, with the dirty magazines stacked in the cupboard and the junk and beer bottles bundled up in a garbage bag. Lovely and organized, just the way she liked it. She sniffed the air and wrinkled her nose. She still couldn't get rid of the unused, musty smell no matter how many times she tried.

_I smell even worse; _Blossom sniffed her armpits and grimaced. She desperately needed a bath.

_Anything to avoid another talk with him. _

It had been three days since Butch and Blossom had had their talk. During the following days Blossom had done everything to try and take her mind off him, Bubbles, Brick_ (call him Mr. Ginger, idiot), _Buttercup and everyone else. It was all starting to make her feel sick to the stomach. Instead she focused on exploring her new home, cleaning up and wandering around in a strange mindless daze.

The bathroom was on the top floor. After double-checking that the door was locked she looked around. The room had faded yellow wallpaper with purple flowers that might have been bright and cheerful in the distant past. Now it was the color of old custard and pale lavender. Blossom cringed.

The tap spluttered when she turned it on and brown water coughed out. Blossom gave the bathtub an angry kick and it started to splutter out slightly cleaner water. She sighed.

Bubbles had always had baths with too much bubble bath in it. She would pour in half the bottle and freak out when the bubbly water started to flow over the top and onto the floor. Buttercup would hit her and of course Blossom would have to be the peacemaker.

Buttercup never took baths. She took quick, two minute showers with unbearably hot water. Brutally efficient, just like her. She couldn't be bothered toweling off either and would sit in the middle of the living room in a fluffy dressing-gown with dripping wet hair and shriveled skin. The Professor would get mad at her for getting the carpet soggy and…

_Stop it!_ Blossom put her hand over her eyes and pulled at her hair. _Stop it._

The murky water had nearly filled up the rusty old bathtub to the rim. Blossom turned off the tap and undressed herself. She eased herself into the lukewarm water and flinched as it stung her scratches and bruises. She had always taken nice warm baths too soothe her injuries with some nice classical music playing and a book to read.

Blossom closed her eyes and sunk down until her head was under water. She felt the soft, bubbling silence and sighed again. Blossom felt a still calmness go over her and before she knew it she was drifting off to sleep.

_Golden light filling up the room. Bright golden light…no…not light. Golden…hair? Beautiful, flowing golden hair. Look at it all the time. For the rest of time. Beautiful. Where's it going? Why is it going? Crumbling before my eyes. Turning into straw. Turning into rotting, foul straw. Don't! Come back! Why didn't you save me, Blossom? Come back…why didn't you sa…__I'm sorry…__I'm sorry…_

A wracking sob echoed through the room and Blossom woke with a shock. Freezing water splashed onto the floor and her teeth chattered. How long had she been out?

The redhead dried and dressed herself quickly and hurried out into the hallway. She blinked. Butch was staggering around in the middle of the corridor talking to himself with a wine bottle in his hand. His black hair was sticking right up at the back and there was vomit all down his front. Blossom fought the urge to gag as he stumbled towards her, blinking blearily.

"W-w-whhhaatchu fuggin' schtaring b-b-b-bitch?" He slurred and pushed past her roughly and into the bathroom. Blossom felt a strange mix of loathing and pity as she watched the former Rowdyruff puke into the toilet bowl.

"Pathetic," she said to herself, crossing her arms. Butch paused and turned to squint at her, a hateful expression crossing his face.

"Wha' didjo say ta me? Wot didjo say, yer fuggin' Powerpuff slut?" He pointed a shaking finger at her accusingly. Blossom narrowed her eyes and took a step closer.

"I said you're _pathetic,_" she hissed venomously glaring right back at the teen who could hardly keep his balance. Butch's upper lip pulled back from his teeth and his eyes widened in a crazy, angry glare. He dropped the wine bottle and it smashed on the floor. Blossom didn't move.

"Me, pafectic? Ha! Youse ain't dun nuthin' to help fight fuggin' Him! Youse just a whinin' waste o' space! At least I'm tryin' to stop 'im. Wot abou' you eh? Eh?"

Butch gave her one last contemptuous look and staggered past her and down the hall. Blossom stood motionless in the corridor for a few seconds, anger threatening to boil over and explode from her body. She felt razor-sharp needles stinging behind her eyeballs and a ringing pain in her head. Blossom breathed in. The stale air rushed down in her lungs and she choked. She needed some fresh air. Now.

She stomped to the foyer and climbed up the stairs to the trapdoor. She lifted it with ease, not caring if anyone saw her, and found herself in the back of the pub. She looked around and breathed in a deep, satisfying breath of cool fresh air. Immediately her headache dulled.

It was later then she first thought. Outside it was dark and the rain drummed down relentlessly. She took another look around. Blossom hadn't examined the pub very well so far and she was surprised at how clean, warm and welcoming it was. The wooden tiles were polished and the lights sent a pleasant, honey-like glow across the place. Soft jazz music added to the calming mood.

Blossom was confused why such a nice pub was in the rough side of town. Why was it empty as well? The only person was the African-American bartender, reading a book with Boomer the cat in his lap.

"Hello," Blossom said nervously sliding into the stool next to the hulking bartender. He jumped slightly and smiled down at her. She offered him her hand.

"I'm Blossom Utonium," she said and the man smiled politely.

"My name is Guillaume but you can call me Gill," he said in a slight French accent. He had a very soothing voice and for the first time in weeks Blossom felt at ease.

"Would you anything to eat?" Gill queried and Blossom nodded. He got up and disappeared into the back room. She felt Boomer curl around her leg and purr. She bent down to scratch him behind the ears.

"So…how long have you known Butch?" She asked when he came back with a jar of olives and two slices of blueberry pie. He paused and looked around the empty place a few times.

"Keep your voice down," he said.

"Oh…s-sorry," Blossom picked out an olive and played with it nervously. The cat hissed at her feet and bounded off. Gill went over and increased the volume on the stereo. He turned to look at her.

"I've known Butch since he was seven years old. I looked after the three boys when Mojo and Him got bored with them," he explained. The redhead blinked. She had always assumed the Rowdyruff Boys stayed with either Mojo or Him. A slightly naive part of her had imagined that the villains of Townsville spent all of their time thinking up evil plots and committing crimes every minute of every day. It was strange to think that they did other things, that they did normal, human things like anybody else would.

"Of course I never could control them. They did what they pleased. I was just a free meal and a place to sleep that wasn't the streets. But I understand that."

Blossom nodded and took a bite of her blueberry pie. It was rich, warm and delicious. She quickly took another big bite. It was even stranger to think that maybe other families had been destroyed by Him and Otto's Club and not just hers. She had been so wrapped up in her own family's falling apart she hadn't stopped to think that Him wasn't just targeting her but the whole of Townsville. She shivered.

"Has Him…why…why is Him stealing people's souls? Butch won't tell me _anything_. But I need to know more about what Him's plotting or I can't help. _I want to help. _I _need_ to help," Blossom said and gave a frustrated sigh. She took another olive and popped it into her mouth. Gill looked at her and crossed his arms.

The only sound was the relentless pattering of rain outside and the jazz music bursting out of the stereo speakers. The redhead and the bartender stared at each other.

"I'd thought you'd have figured it out already. Him's weak. That's why he needs human souls. He's been stealing them for nine years now. Pretty simple. Enough human souls and he'll be to his full strength again," he paused and looked away.

That…that made a lot of sense actually. Why hadn't she figured it out before? Weak? Why is everyone saying Him's weak? How is he weak? He was one of the toughest bad guys she had ever fought when she was younger.

"How did Him lose his strength?" She queried and Gill started to look a bit annoyed.

"That's the last question, right? It's not safe to be discussing this here. You're going to have to talk to Butch," he said and Blossom flinched at the thought of confronting the drunk teen downstairs. After a few minutes thought, she nodded slowly. Gill grinned.

"Townsville is like a prize that criminals all across the globe fight over. Everyone wants to control it everybody wants to be in charge of it. Him has _always_ been the top dog, the one in charge. He's just very quiet about it, he doesn't brag. Not a lot of people know that he's the one pulling the strings," Gill explained. Blossom blinked. She hadn't known it either. She was about to say something about the Mayor but the smarter side of her already knew the truth.

"So Him lets the criminals fight with themselves and doesn't do anything. He knows he can just kill them if they get out of hand or find out about him and try to usurp him from the top position. But I guess one day he must've met his match. Someone who was smart and got him when he wasn't expecting it. I guess after years of watching heaps of idiot criminals, Him let his guard down. And nearly got himself killed."

Blossom smiled to herself. She'd probably never find out who was smart enough to find a way to outsmart Him. She knew whoever it was definitely didn't come from Townsville. As a matter fact Gill probably didn't come from Townsville either. He seemed too clever for that.

"One more question?"

"No."

Blossom sighed as Gill picked up his book and started to read, completely ignoring her. The redhead pushed her unfinished blueberry pie and walked off to the trapdoor. Boomer was scratching and meowing at the trapdoor with a frustrated look on his face. Blossom heaved the door open and they both slid down the stairs and back into the musty-smelling darkness.

_What can I do to help? Is there anything? I'm not waste of space. I'm not! _

The cat stared up at with its golden eyes and turned around to walk off. Blossom watched as it paused in the middle of the corridor and looked back at her. It meowed and Blossom blinked. She started to follow the scrawny animal as it trotted down the staircase.

Boomer led her to the bottom floor and into the library. This room was around the same size as her bedroom and wasn't _exactly _what you'd call a proper library. It was mainly made up of two hefty tables piled with thick leather-bound books. There was a rickety chair and a crate tucked into the corner with a few smashed wine bottles surrounding it. It was a sort of sad replica of an armchair and table.

It was hardly the big, warm comfy library with armchairs to snuggle into that Blossom was used to.

Boomer hissed and sprang over to one of the tables, knocking a whole heap of them to the floor in the process. Blossom fought the urge to curse and went over and swatted the feline on the head.

"Stupid cat," she bent over to pick the books up. She paused as she stared at the one of the books that had flipped open. There was a detailed diagram of a terrifying looking creature with one slimy eye, leathery wings and tentacles. It looked like one of the monsters she and her sisters would pulverize on a daily basis.

The text accompanying it was oddly covered with red biro lines. Certain words had been circled or crossed out. To the side were words rewritten in a childish scrawl broken down into syllables

Blossom flipped through the book. It was filled with the same red biro and broken down words. She picked up the next book and it was exactly the same. For a few confused minutes she flipped through as many books as she could. They were all scrawled over with red. Every one of his books, all of them on Demonology was covered in red pen lines.

_Why is he writing all over his books? _She thought to herself and she looked over to Boomer who was licking his paws on the crate which served as a table. It came to her then, like a lightning bolt out of the blue.

"He can't read. Butch is illiterate," she said to herself straightening up. She started to chuckle to herself. It wasn't surprising. The idea of the Rowdyruff Boys attending school was ridiculous. They wouldn't ever go except if someone forced them too. Even then they wouldn't be bothered doing the work properly.

_Looks like I can finally help him with something, _Blossom picked up a few of the books from the ground and walked over to the door.

_I'll help him research on Demonology._

"Butch?" The redhead yelled as she walked up the stairs. She walked straight to his favorite room, Boomer hot on her heels. The door as per usual, was left half open and Blossom stormed in without knocking.

"Butch I've got an…holy lord…" Blossom dropped the books onto the floor and stared in shock. The lanky teen was lying out cold in a puddle of sick and alcohol not moving. With a shriek, the redhead bounded over to kneel at his side. She felt desperately for a pulse. She gave out a gasp of relief. Butch was fine, perfectly fine.

"Stupid, stupid idiot…" Blossom hissed as she rolled him over to his side. He coughed weakly and muttered something. The redhead recoiled in disgust at the foul smell.

_Not only do I help him with his research, _Blossom thought angrily to herself. _I'm going to have to be his god-damned mother as well. _

She picked him up with ease and the filthy teenager cursed inaudibly. Boomer meowed from the door and Blossom looked at him.

"We have some serious work to do," she said and the feline yowled in agreement.

* * *

**A/N Sorry for yet another long wait. I've been on holidays so this story hasn't been high on my list for awhile. There will probably be another long wait. My bad, I know. Hope everyone had a good Christmas. Peace out! ^^**


	10. Family

"W-w-whata you doin' Brick? P-p-put me down…n-not funny, man…"

Blossom felt her stomach turn and she repressed the urge to shudder. She had awkwardly maneuvered her way to the bathroom with Butch over her shoulder. She laid him gently on the toilet seat and turned around to start running him a bath.

There was a sickening heaving noise and she turned around just in time to see Butch vomit through his outspread fingers. He blinked wearily at the mess then looked up at her. Blossom's stomach was churning and she covered her mouth, fighting the urge to be sick herself.

_Get a grip on yourself. You've seen much more revolting things then someone being sick, _the pink puff told herself sternly.

"Watcho doin' Brick? You're a-a-a-acting weird," Butch slurred hoarsely as the tub filled up with lukewarm water. Blossom grit her teeth.

"I'm running you a bath. And…I'm not your brother. It's Blossom," the redhead said quietly, looking down at her shaking hands. There was a long pause. Blossom watched as the water rose steadily towards the rim. Butch started to giggle uncertainly, breaking the silence. She tried very hard to ignore him and the stench of vomit.

"N-n-n-nice joke, Brick. Heh. I hate those s-s-s-stupid f-f-f-fuggin' bitches. T-think they're so good…" he heaved again, coughing wetly. Blossom reached over and turned off the tap. She looked over and the black-haired boy who was staring at her with a strange mixture of fear and awe. She shuddered again and stood up.

"I'll get you some clean clothes and a towel. You get undressed and hop in the bath," she said, trying to hide her repulsion. Butch blinked slowly as she exited the room.

"He-hey! You'll c-c-come back won't you Brick?"

Blossom wandered around the house, looking for a linen closet or a place where Butch kept his clothes. It took fifteen minutes of searching until she found it in one of the empty room on the second floor. She picked up a ragged towel and some clothes that were slightly less grimy then the other ones that Butch had been wearing. Then she made her way back to the bathroom. She spotted Boomer the mangy cat, cleaning itself outside the bathroom door. He stopped when she opened the door and turned around to scuttle across the hall and down the stairs.

Butch was nodding off in the bathtub, slipping further and further down until his head was underwater. Blossom hanged up the clothes and towel and walked over to pull him up by the hair. He yelled out in shock and his fist struck out and slammed the girl in the face. It was a sloppy, soft hit but it still made Blossom jump out of her skin.

"It's just me Butch!" She cried out as she rubbed her cheek, feeling the bruise forming already. She wasn't used to the fact that Butch was nearly as strong as her. The black haired boy squinted at her for a few minutes. Then he relaxed.

"Youse scared m-me Brick, man. Watcho doin' sneakin' up o-o-on me l-l-like that?" He muttered slowly as he splashed the lukewarm water over his skinny knees.

"Where's B-B-Boomer?"

Blossom ignored him and picked up a nearby washcloth, wrinkling her nose at the putrid smell. She dunked the cloth into the water and brought it out again, dripping wet. Gripping the teen's bare shoulder firmly, she began to scrub at the grime encrusted in his skin. Butch stared at her as if she was crazy.

"Wot the fuck are youse d-d-d-doin'?" He snarled and tried to push her hand away. Blossom glared at him and tightened her grip. She turned his head gently to the side and started wiping the vomit out of his hair. Butch seemed to calm down a bit and she saw his head nodding again. As she scrubbed him clean he slowly dozed off and began to snore gutturally.

Blossom was fairly used to having to clean up disgusting messes. Whenever the three sisters destroyed a revolting monster they always had to clean up afterwards; the monsters that attacked Townsville were always slimy and horrid, cleaning up vomit wasn't that different.

Her mind drifted to all the times Buttercup would chuck slime at Bubbles and laugh hysterically at the blonds' outraged reaction. How Bubbles would always screw her face up in disgust as the cleaned up the gore and Buttercup would always be stinking and filthy by the time they were done. How, when they were younger, the Professor would sit next to the bathtub and scrub the goo out of their hair, and then when they were done, bundle the three of them into fluffy white towels and…

_Stop it, _Blossom thought to herself and clenched the washcloth furiously in her fist. Butch was fast asleep now and didn't notice it. There was a yowl and she heard claws scratching at the door. She sighed and her head began to pound dully against her skull. This place was so…stifling. She desperately wanted to get some fresh air.

She washed Butch until the water became ice-cold. She heated it up a little with her heat-vision which seemed to relax the boy even more. Soon the Rowdyruff was nice and clean. Blossom suspected that he was cleaner then he'd been in years.

Acting very carefully so she wouldn't wake him, she dried and dressed the teenager. Butch was in such a deep stupor he didn't even notice.

She carried him to his room and laid him gently on the floor. She would have to clean up the vomit in this room and the bathroom pretty soon but first she had to find the boy a blanket and pillow. She went to the empty room where she had found the towel and the clothes. She found a moth-eaten pillow and a thin, woolen blanket.

Butch hadn't moved an inch when she returned and she tucked the blankets snugly around him.

It took another half-hour to clean up the vomit and the rank smell of alcohol.

"Poison," she growled to herself as she scrubbed away at the bathroom floor. Butch snorted in his sleep from the next room.

She stood up and swayed slightly on the spot. The lack of fresh air was making her feel woozy.

"Man oh man," Blossom muttered to herself, putting her hand to her forehead.

"How can he stand it?"

_Maybe I could visit Gill, _she thought to herself as she scrubbed away at her vomit stained hands in the sink. She felt her stomach growl. It seemed like the blueberry pie and olives had been years ago.

Running a hand through her sweaty hair, she made off towards the foyer. In a few moments she was poking her head out of the trapdoor. The warm, relaxing pub put her immediately at ease again.

"Hello again," Gill welcomed her, smiling kindly. He was digging into a slice of blueberry pie and Blossom felt her stomach grumble. He cut a thick slice, plunked it on a plate and pushed it towards her. She walked over to the bench, climbed onto a stool and began to eat greedily.

"How's Butch?" He asked softly. Blossom shrugged, keeping her eyes down.

"Passed out yet?"

Blossom smiled ruefully.

"Even when I toss all of his alcohol out and lock away all of mine, I still find him in a drunken stupor the next day," Gill said and the redhead could easily detect the bitterness in his voice.

There was a long, slightly uneasy silence. The rain was beginning to ease but not by much. Gill had switched off his stereo and the silence was almost as stifling as downstairs. Apparently feeling the tinge of gloom in the air, Gill reached under the counter and got out a TV remote. He switched on the small dark television in the corner. A reality show was playing. Blossom vaguely remembered how Bubbles watched it like a ritual every week. She wondered if her sister was watching it right at this very moment…

_Not my sister…not anymore, _she reminded herself sullenly and she felt a sob threatening to escape her.

Gill flicked through the channels, Blossom not paying any attention. She shoveled the blueberry pie into her mouth and when she was done she immediately helped herself to another thick slice. She was starting to feel sick but she paid no attention and poured a big dollop of cream onto the slice.

"…_interview with Miss Utonium in a few seconds…"_

Blossom's head snapped up and her eyes opened wide with shock.

"Stop!' She shrieked at Gill disturbing the grim silence of the pub. She stared intently at the flickering television screen. She felt a sick surge of fear go through her body and her heart began to thump against her chest. The redhead saw the familiar newscaster on the screen. There was a picture behind her head that Blossom recognized instantly. It was at the sister's fifteenth birthday party in the Townsville Park and the three girls had tackled the Professor into a hug. Someone had snapped the picture and it had been a favorite around Townsville ever since.

She stared at the picture of the four people, laughing and hugging each other, completely carefree. Buttercup was laughing and had a giggling Blossom in a headlock. Bubbles was grinning from ear to ear and her bright blue eyes were sparkling. The Professor's face was lit up with joyous glee as his daughters surrounded him.

"_Many of the citizens in Townsville are becoming afraid that the famous Utonium family may be falling apart. After the recent shocking passing of Professor Utonium things have been going downhill. _

The redhead felt numb as she stared, misty-eyed at the screen.

_Blossom, the leader of the crime fighting trio The Powerpuff Girls has abandoned her grieving sisters and just this afternoon, Buttercup famously dubbed "the tough one," was hospitalized for what the police call an obvious suicide attempt…_

Blossom felt her breath catch in her throat as a picture of the green puff flashed on the screen. She looked small in the hospital bed, surrounded by bleeping machines and wires. Her face was drawn and gaunt, her hair messy and her eyes wet and desperate.

"_The doctors tell us that Buttercup Utonium had taken the mysterious Antidote X, rendering herself helpless, and then taken a large amount of pills and alcohol. She was saved just in time by her sister Bubbles Utonium, cover girl of Gorgeous Gals and star of the Choco-bar commercials. It seems that Miss Bubbles Utonium is the only member of the Utonium family who is holding everything together. In an exclusive interview, Miss Utonium speaks to us of her family's grief._

Her heart was in her throat. Her mouth was dry and her palms were sweating. She saw out of the corner of her eye, Gill staring at her warily as if she was a ticking time-bomb about to go off.

Bubbles sat with her hands clasped in her lap, makeup caked on her face and her hair wispy and straw-coloured. Her face was skeletal and deathly pale and her eyes were bugging out and manic. She didn't look like Bubbles anymore. She looked like a monster.

"_How are you handling yourself Bubbles, with the recent blows on your family?" _

Bubbles closed her eyes and when she opened them, the manic look was gone, replaced with sweetness, desperation and unshed tears. Blossom saw through the façade at once.

"_Well I'm doing the very best I can. I've got to hold myself together, what with Buttercup…acting up. And my dear sister Blossom running away from us. If I don't keep my head, who on earth will?"_

The interviewer clucked sympathetically.

"_The citizens of Townsville have commented on how strange it is that Blossom, usually so clear-headed and logical, abandoned her family and her role as leader of the Powerpuff Girls. Were there any events prior to the Professor's passing that may have resulted in Blossom's out-of-character behaviour?"_

Blossom was deadly sure she saw something dark flicker in her sister's eyes and what looked like a smirk play lightly at the corners of her mouth. It was so subtle that the redhead was sure that she was the only one in Townsville who caught it.

"_No, nothing at all. She was just the same old Blossom. Perhaps a bit stressed over her schoolwork but then…Blossom always was the most concerned over her schoolwork…I never knew what the big fuss was about. But then with the Professor…the P-P-Profess…oh…excuse me."_

Bubbles turned away from the camera and buried her face in her palms. Tears were flowing down her cheeks in rivulets. After a few seconds she turned back, her tears making her makeup run and making her look even more ghastly and deranged than ever. She clasped her hands under her chin and stared into the camera with her wide blue eyes. Blossom shuddered…it was if her eyes were staring right through the television screen and right into her soul. As if she knew exactly where she was and what affect she was having on her.

"_W-w-we just want her to come home. We all do. Blossom __**wherever**__ you are…we j-j-just want you to come back to us where you belong. J-j-just be a part of our little family again."_

Her blue eyes were fixed on her pink ones. Big, wide and taunting, the redhead saw clearly through the fake, teary words that had been said before. The ice-cold eyes told her everything. _We will find you. Wherever you are, we will get you. _

"_Thank you so much for your time Miss Utonium. We will all pray dearly that your sisters will come to their senses and support each other in this difficult time." _The interview said and in a flash Bubbles' teary face disappeared.

"_Buttercup Utonium is having Chemical X inserted back into her body as we speak. Blossom Utonium is now the most wanted person in Townsville. A city-wide search has been issued and the citizens are being told to ring this hotline if any information of Blossom's whereabouts is known. And now onto our next story…"_

Blossom barely noticed as Gill switched off the television. She sat in stunned silence, staring at the blank television screen which just a few seconds ago had shown her sneering sister's face.

_Not Bubbles. Not Bubbles at all._

Gill was still looking at her with that wary look on his face. Her pink eyes slid other to meet his. There was a pained silence for what seemed like hours. The man scratched his forearm awkwardly.

"Well…I think you should probably…stay downstairs from now on. What with everybody looking for you know," he said slowly. It took a few seconds for the redhead to react to his words. Numbly, she nodded and stood up.

"They're not going to look for you here. They're going to look outside of Townsville in abandoned houses and forests. No-one's will think to look for you in a pub," Gill continued in his calm, soothing voice but even that didn't put Blossom at ease. Manic blue eyes and straw-like hair and were still flashing like neon lights through her mind.

Blossom walked in a deadened daze towards the back room and the trap-door. Slipping down the stairs and into the foyer she barely noticed as warm tears began to slide silently down her cheeks. She stood motionless in the foyer for a few minutes, the interview replaying through her mind over and over again.

…_just come home…_

Hoarse, ragged howling noises were echoing throughout the place. It sounded like a wounded, dying animal. The sounds of its grief pounded against Blossom's skull. She walked slowly across the stuffy, green-lighted corridors, around corners and down a rickety staircase. The painfully raw sobs grew louder and louder as she walked down the second floor corridor.

Butch was curled up in the same place which she had left him, his back to her, bawling roughly. Blossom stood staring at him blankly with her mouth slightly opened.

His bleary face, bright red with tears and alcohol turned up to her. She remained glued on the spot. His bottom lip began to tremble and he burst into more hysterical tears.

The familiar motherly surge took other her mind as she walked up to the huddled figure. She crouched next to the brutally sobbing boy and put an arm around him. He immediately tensed up and the harsh tears dropped down to snotty sniveling. She hugged him silently, wanting to tell him something comforting to make it all better.

Whenever something went wrong when she was little, say she didn't get as good a mark as she'd been aiming for or Bubbles and Buttercup had been getting on her nerves, the Professor was always there. He'd bend down and wrap his arms around her in a big bear hug and promise her a mug of hot chocolate. He'd tell her about the new exciting thing he discovered down in his laboratory which always interested her enormously. By the time she was finishing her cup of hot chocolate and soaking in his excited babble on science she'd be totally at ease and…

_Stop it! Just stop it! _

Butch's wet eyes were staring blankly at the wall, his shaggy black head resting against her shoulder. They were sitting in silence and she felt unable to say a word. What on earth would make someone who's had their entire life torn away, feel better? It's going to be okay? Cheer up? Everything will be alright?

"I-I can help you read all those Demonology books, Butch," she whispered, breaking the silence. "We could go through them and find information on fighting…" She paused and took a deep breath. The raven-haired boy hadn't seemed to notice. His bloodshot eyes turned to hers and he looked at her vacantly. He snorted.

"Not a waste of space after all, eh?" He muttered grimly and stood up, leaving her there on the floor. She watched as he skulked over to the door. Panic thudded in her chest.

"Where are you going?" She called desperately to his back. The hunched over body stopped in mid-step. He let out a shuddering sigh.

"Getting' sumthin' to drink. I'll be back in the mornin'" he replied gruffly and with that he was gone. She heard his footsteps thud up the staircase and a few minutes later the old creak of the trapdoor. He had escaped to the pub.

Blossom lay there on the dusty wooden floor silently. She reached out and dragged the old blankets and the pillow towards her. She tucked the blankets around herself and rested her head on the pillow.

_It's all just too much. It's all too fucking much._

Was that what Buttercup thought as she stared down at the beaker of Antidote X? Is that what Him thought as he lay weak and dying down in the bowels of Otto's Club? Is that what Butch thinks about every single day?

_It's just too much. I just can't handle this. _

Her head began to thud again as she drifted off into dreams of dark shapes, writhing bodies and long helpless wailing cries in the gloom.

* * *

**A/N Eh...nothing much I can say about this one. Except...OMG TENTH CHAPTER WOO! Time flies when your having fun. We still got a long way to go...so don't get too excited. ^^**


	11. Disappearance

The red liquid splashed over the bathroom sink and ran down the drain. She glared at the now empty bottle and threw it into the black garbage bag that she had taken from the kitchen. Next she grabbed a small bottle of amber liquid which she did not recognize. The redhead gave it a sniff and winced. She turned and poured the whole lot down the drain with grim satisfaction.

"Last one," she whispered to herself as she tossed the bottle into the garbage bag. Blossom stood there for a few seconds, staring down into the gurgling drain. She let out a slow rattling sigh.

After a few minutes of staring down into the sink, she turned on her heel and stalked out of the door. Blossom knew that Butch wouldn't react well when he learnt that she had gotten rid of all his alcohol. She didn't care though. She didn't want to have to nurse a drunken Butch back to being sober again.

Blossom walked into the cramped, green-lit corridor and battled the feeling of claustrophobia. Butch had been gone for ages and the cat was upstairs with Gill. She didn't like being in this dusty, abandoned place alone. It was too still, too quiet…

She shook her head angrily, cursing her childishness. Immediately she regretted it as another headache wormed its way back into her skull.

"I'll go to the library," she said softly to herself, her words sounding strange and foreign in the stifling silence. She looked up as a trickle of dust escaped from the ceiling above her. It was the only movement around. Biting her lip she started to make her way towards the stairs that led downwards to the library.

It was a bit like her refuge now that she was banned from going up into the pub. She had started to go through the big, old books on Demonology, trying to find any information that would help with fighting Him. The redhead was frustrated to learn that many of the books were long and complicated, full of old-fashioned words and text that was hard to understand. Blossom was certain that if she had a lap-top, Encyclopedia or a dictionary with her she could get through the books with ease. But Butch owned none of these so she was forced to guess at what most of the text meant.

As she walked into the makeshift library she went to settle into the rickety chair in the corner. The redhead picked up a notebook full of her scribbled translations and one of the more helpful books. She opened up the notebook and read over what she had written so far. It wasn't much.

_It is very unlikely for a demon to be defeated by mere brute force. _

_Devils and demons are well-known for being fond of tricks and mind-games. They can be temporarily defeated by intelligence and cunning. This however, rarely defeats them for eternity._

Sighing irritably to herself, Blossom began to flick through the old, heavy book. There was a lot of information about small-time demons but hardly anything about extremely dangerous ones like Him.

The redhead paused suddenly. What exactly was Him anyway? People had always assumed he was the Devil himself but no-one knew for sure. He could be a small-time demon. He could be a fallen angel. He might be just a malevolent shape-shifting trickster spirit. Who on earth knew for sure? It was all guesswork and theories when it came to Him.

She shook her head in frustration and tried desperately to remember back when she was younger and her battles with Him. The girls had never learnt a lot about Him at all. He was simply another villain to fight back then, but ten times more frightening than the others.

Tossing the book aside she went up to grab another from the pile. How could you fight something you knew nothing about? Trying to fight against the growing feeling of hopelessness, she went through the slightly slimmer, newer book. It was another un-helpful one full of nursery tales about demons and spirits. She tossed it to the ground.

The next two were also useless, full of text about all the great supernatural hoaxes of the past. Fighting the urge to throw the books at the wall, she picked up the next one.

This one was the heaviest book yet and crackled wearily when opened, letting out a puff of dust that made her nose tickle. She flipped through the old pages, trying to find something useful.

She was about to throw the book away in frustration when something caught her eye. Flicking back a few pages she froze at a very old, faded picture and felt her blood run cold. Her heart began to beat in her chest and her breath caught in her throat.

It was a small child, dressed in an old-fashioned nightgown and carrying a teddy bear in her arms. She had a wide, frightened look on her face and there was swirling pink smoke floating around her. Blossom stared at it, being hit with the feeling of déjà vu. She remembered the old nightmares of tendrils of pink smoke and red light surrounding her every side. She had long forgotten where the dreams originated.

It had been Him. She had totally forgotten. Shuddering slightly she looked at the text that accompanied the disturbing picture. She felt shock go through her…some of the writing certainly rang true. She began to scribble down translations.

_In some cultures there is talk of a mysterious figure that most people are too frightened to name. Not a lot is known about this figure other then it is able to warp reality, shape-shift and is capable of possessing objects, people and sometimes even entire houses and villages. _

Blossom felt a feeling of unease crawl into her as she read the last sentence back. _Possessing houses and villages? _She suddenly felt cold and she shuddered tried to find some more text that sounded familiar but came up with nothing. She flipped through the pages, eager to find some more information. The redhead paused at a piece of writing ten or more pages from the creepy picture. After reading through it, she jotted some sentences down in her notebook again.

_As many supernatural creatures and figures do not know or understand the human emotion of love it is known for them to underestimate the power of it, often to their peril._

Blossom heard dimly in the distance, the sound of the trapdoor being lifted up. It was probably just Butch arriving home. She yawned tiredly, wishing she could go to sleep but knowing she shouldn't. The pink puff read and translated on.

_As a demonic force gets older it becomes harder and harder to destroy it. However there are stories of demonic forces being trapped, powerless in common human objects, unable to do harm. This unfortunately, does not stop the demonic force from being set free sometimes centuries later to cause havoc again. _

_Some of the old superstitions about battling demonic forces occasionally work, for example holy water and crucifixes. However, one would be incredibly foolish to rely on these ways of battling demonic forces only._

Blossom felt a surge of happiness go through her as she flipped through the old, yellowing pages. This was the most useful information she had found yet. She wasn't sure if it would all work against Him…but some information was better than nothing.

She went through the rest of the book, slightly disappointed when she unable to find anything else as helpful. Her eyelids had begun to droop with tiredness and she was feeling woozy again at the lack of fresh air. A few floors up she heard an angry curse from Butch and flinched, knowing he was probably furious at his disappearing drinks.

She paused, looking down at the back cover of the old book. In small, spidery handwriting, someone had written in blue biro, _to know one's true name is to have power over the owner. _Blossom stared at it, hardly hearing the creak of the trapdoor again ahead of her. Then shaking her head slightly, she scribbled the sentence down into her notebook.

The red-head wondered briefly who had written the sentence before closing her notebook. She had a lot of helpful information now, maybe enough to stand a chance against Him.

_Not a waste of space after all, eh?_

The one and a half pages of writing did not stop her from feeling uneasy. Would it be enough? Would it all actually help to defeat Him and save Buttercup's life? Blossom tried to stay awake to ponder about all of this, but all the translating, reading and scribbling had left her exhausted. In a few minutes she was yawning and her head was resting against the old wooden crate.

_Sweat was rolling off her and she couldn't see…anything. Everywhere she looked it was dark red and shadowy. She called out her sisters names in the darkness and heard sadistic chuckles surrounding her. She felt like a cornered rat and now finally the cat was prowling in. Fear pumped through her veins and she staggered backwards. She heard high, cold laughter and she stifled a scream._

"_Scuttle, scuttle little mouse…"_

Something was licking her nose and she slowly opened her eyes. The familiar black, pointed face of Boomer the cat was up close to her face. She sniffed with annoyance and patted the feline away.

As she got up she became aware that she wasn't alone in the room. She jumped as she spotted the hulking figure of Gill standing over the crate frowning as he read through her notebook. He looked incredibly odd and out of place in the green-lit, dusty, low-ceilinged room. She was already used to him in his warm, welcoming pub that seeing him down here seemed shocking.

"What are you doing?" She snapped rubbing her eyes and wincing as her head throbbed painfully. Gill looked down at her and she was a worried to see the look of slight panic on his face. He rubbed his head, as if he too was getting a headache down in the musty hide-out and smiled at her.

"Nothing to be concerned about," he said lightly and she immediately felt soothed by his calming, French-accented voice. He handed her back the notebook, pushed the cat from the wooden crate and settled down on it.

There was a long pause for awhile, as if the man was trying to figure out how to word what he was going to say next without upsetting her. After a few more minutes ticked by, he sighed.

"Butch came down here about two hours ago and left a bit after. He was in a pretty bad mood…I'd locked away all my drinks and he seemed to be under the impression that you'd gotten rid of his…"

He gave her a slightly stern look and Blossom felt a twinge of guilt.

"He's been gone for a very long time…" he continued and his face creased into a worried frown. Blossom blinked and she licked her lips nervously. She imagined an angry Butch wandering the streets of Townsville looking for a place to get a drink. She saw shadows lurking in the alleyways and bright red eyes following the raven-haired teen down the road, glinting with malevolence. She saw strong hands clamping the teen's arms behind his back and a hand with long, painted nails covering his mouth so he couldn't scream and dragging him away into the darkness…

_Stop being stupid, _she told herself as her heart began to thump in her chest again. Maybe Butch was just passed out in some alleyway, covered in puke and alcohol. Maybe he had just forgotten the time and was still drinking away in some pub…

"I'm so _stupid!_" Blossom hissed, clenching her fists. Gill looked at her with surprise. The red-head stood up and started pacing around the room and tugging at her hair.

"I thought it would be such a good idea to get rid of all his drinks…I didn't think for a second he'd go out and try and find some more. Now …if…_they_ get him…" she felt like kicking something. This was all her fault. Gill stood up and put a big, heavy hand on her shoulder to stop her. She looked up at him, eyes glistening with angry tears.

"Calm down," he told her gently. "He's a Rowdyruff. He can take care of himself. Who knows? He might be perfectly fine and come back in five minutes." His words seemed calming at first, but Blossom shook her head.

"Mr. Ginger's a Rowdyruff. Bubbles and Buttercup are Powerpuffs. Him's might just be the fucking devil! It's four against one! This is my entire fault…"

She collapsed onto the rickety chair and buried her head in her arms. Her stomach was clenching like she was going to throw up. Her throat felt like it had been lined with cement.

_Idiot,idiot,idiot,idiot,idiot…suchafuckingidiot…_

"Just going to sit there and feel sorry for yourself then?" A voice said suddenly and she jerked her head up and looked at Gill, who was sitting, glaring at her with his arms crossed across his chest. She glared back and his face softened a bit. He leant over to give her a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

"Look," he said quietly. "You're a Powerpuff Girl as well. Anyway, why don't we wait awhile and if he doesn't come back we'll think of a way to handle it. It's no use sitting there, crying over our mistakes."

Blossom nodded slowly, feeling embarrassed over her tears.

"Don't you think…don't you think if they _have_ taken him…they did it to lure me over to Otto's Club?" She asked wiping her eyes and trying to put some authority back into her voice. Gill cocked his head to the side. They were both silent for awhile. She felt the cat wind itself around her legs but she was too worried to give it a scratch behind the ears.

"It's a good possibility…" Gill replied, scratching his chin. Blossom felt her stomach drop. He saw the look on her face and smiled grimly. He stood up and picked up the meowing bundle into his big arms.

"Put it out of your mind for now. We might be worrying about nothing," he told her and with that he exited the library. Blossom listened to his heavy footsteps creaking over the floorboards. A few moments later she heard the sound of the trapdoor opening and thudding shut again.

She was alone again.

After a few minutes of staring at the wooden crate she stood up, shaking her red hair away from her eyes. Even after Gill's calming words she still felt like her stomach had tied itself into a knot. Her heart and head were aching and she walked slowly and deliberately out into the corridor. The pink puff found herself walking numbly into her bedroom. She sat down on the edge of her mattress and looked down at her shaking hands. She clenched them and closed her eyes. After a few minutes of listening to the silence, she opened them again and laid herself down onto the bed.

Without thinking she reached over and felt around for the old toy alligator. After a few minutes of being unable to find it she turned onto her side and looked around. The old toy was sitting a few feet from the mattress and next to it was a small flimsy piece of paper. Blinking, she crawled over and picked it up. Squinting, she held it up to the light.

_The door is always open._

And beneath it a childish drawing of a door. A sudden feeling of foreboding went over her and she dropped the piece of paper with a start. Grabbing the toy alligator and biting down into its tail, she crawled back to her mattress. Hugging the toy tight and screwing her eyes shut she turned onto her side and tried to block the voices running through her mind.

_Door's always…_

…_it's always open…_

…_come back soon…_

…_always…_

…_scuttle, scuttle…_

…_little mouse._

…_never escape from us…_

…_takes bits of it, a little at a time…_

_You can never escape from us!_

* * *

**A/N Finally things are starting to pick up again. We had a few quiet chapters before and I bet some of you were starting to get bored. ^^ But don't worry, there's some action coming up. (Evil laugh.) Reviews are love. :D**


	12. Searches

When Blossom awoke once more staring up at the bare dusty ceiling, Gill was standing hunched over in the doorway, looking over at her, grim-faced. The girl felt a surge of hopeless horror go through her as she sat up at the mattress.

"...he's...he's gone?" she whispered and felt a sharp, pinching pain deep inside her chest and her eyes grew prickly. Gill's face was full of pain as he muttered an affirmative. Blossom felt bare and empty...drowning in helplessness. She stared up at the man, bright pink eyes fogging over with tears.

"They've taken him," she said, forcing her voice to be steady and strong. Gill didn't even bother to argue, knowing she was right. The girl got to her feet, biting her lip hard to stop herself from screaming, crying or destroying the room in a fit of bleak rage.

"We have to find a way to get him back," she was trying so hard to be a leader, to have a plan to make everything alright again. But the very thought of going to find Butch...where-ever hell he was being kept...it made her blood run cold.

_Coward_, a voice hissed in the back of her mind but she pushed it away, feeling every part of her body thrum with pain. Gill sent a hand over his face and he looked tired and haggard. The pink puff felt her heart go out towards the man. This must be hurting so much more for him. He had known all three boys for such a long time, must've seen Brick's horrendous transformation and whatever mysterious circumstances in which Boomer died. Now to see Butch gone as well...

"How...how do you think we're going to rescue him...we can't just walk through the front door," the man muttered lowly and Blossom stared down at her feet. He was right...and she found herself realising what an obvious ambush this was. Kidnapping Butch so she would wander like a blind, buzzing fly into their web...luring her in like cattle to the slaughterhouse.

"This doesn't seem like something Him would do...he's smarter then that," she said confusedly and a brief look of anger went over the man's face before he settled down again.

"He...he is much smarter then this. The other two are definitely be behind this," he snarled slightly and the girl felt her face twist up in contempt. Brick...well he had never been known for his strategies. He was the type to just act on an impulse. As for..._her_...well...she couldn't make a fucking plan to save her life.

Rage sizzled though the red-head's body before she took a deep breath to calm herself down.

"There must be another way," she said desperately, kicking at the mattress in frustration. "I mean...there's a front door...and a side door...there must be a back..."

She grew suddenly stone-still, frozen on the spot. Gill looked down at her perplexedly as her mouth slowly dropped open. Bits and pieces were flying around madly in her mind, sticking and clicking together. The door...the door is always...

"The door is always open," she whispered, staring up at the man in the doorway. Everything clicked like a puzzle in her brain and she grinned wide. "The door's always open!"

A slow, dawning look of understanding went over his face. His expression became worried as she gleefully went over to pick the slip of paper from off of the ground. Her heart was pounding hysterically in her chest as she stared down at the childish scrawl and the line of writing that suddenly didn't seem so cryptic any more.

"This is the back door! This is the way in!" she was going to get him back...she was going to prove them all wrong, she was going to outsmart them...

"Blossom," Gill told her firmly. "Think."

She glanced up at him. The stern, almost fatherly look in his face reminded her of the Profes...no. She couldn't think of him, she couldn't...

"I've seen objects like this before. It can only open up by you giving it something that immediately identifies who you are. They'll attack as soon as you walk in."

Blossom stared up at him wide-eyed before staring down. Bleakness swept back in to take over her brief moment of excitement. She felt like ripping the slip of paper into confetti.

"This is the only way in...how else am I going to rescue Butch?" she snapped and he leaned over to pluck the piece of paper from her fingers. She watched as he reached down into his pocket.

"They want you...not me," he said simply as she watched him pull out a little pocket knife. Her heart thudded painfully in her chest as he raised the glinting blade into the air.

"Are you an idiot?" she gasped and he paused, staring at her. "Mr Ginger knows you...and he's smart enough to figure out I could be staying with you. Do you want me to get caught?"

Gill didn't lower the blade, a patient smile stretching over his lips, slip of paper grasped between his fingers.

"Mr Ginger isn't the only one who gives these things out, you know. Anyway, watching people walk through the back-door is way beneath him. He's far too important to be concerned over that."

Blossom just stared at him unconvinced, heart still pulsating uneasily in her throat.

"Don't you think...they'd be expecting us to come through this way?" she said and he considered this for a few seconds. Then he slowly shook his head.

"They kidnapped Butch so you would reach your breaking point...so you would throw judgement out of the window and let your emotions rule instead of your brain. They're probably standing by the front and side door right now, waiting for you."

He smiled a little grimly again and she wondered how he had come to this conclusion so fast. She slowly felt herself being soothed by his calm logic.

"Hardly anyone uses the back-door anyway. Not a lot of people are smart enough to figure out how to use it."

He looked down at her approvingly and she smiled a little back. Sticking her hands into her pockets, she sighed and nodded for him to continue. His big hand slowly went down and nicked at his finger, a drop of dark blood oozing out from the tiny cut.

They both watched as the red droplet oozed out and dropped onto the thin, flimsy piece of paper. Blossom thought it would soak right through and was slightly unsettled when it just sat in the middle of the picture of the door like a doorknob.

Gill dropped it immediately and it floated in mid-air before the blood spread out like a spider-web to each corner of the tiny door. The black edges began to glow red and they watched with faint horror as the door slowly swung open and began to grow larger and larger. A droning, humming noise echoed through the room and sticky, sweaty heat pulsated out from the glowing red doorway.

She felt a little sick with fear as the door grew and grew...finally it stopped. She saw dark stairs trailing up into the oven-hot, red-blackness within. Her heart thudded in her mouth and she swallowed roughly.

Gill looked over at her and nodded slightly, red light washing over his face. She realised, slowly that only one person could walk in...she didn't know how she was so certain of this. She knew it was true though and she felt herself shake.

_So much for Blossom, the courageous fucking leader of the Powerpuff Girls._

"I think..." Gill said, licking his lips nervously, staring up at the seemingly never-ending staircase with big eyes. "...you should get changed. You'll stand out like a beacon in those clothes."

She looked down at her pink shirt and sweat-pants and nodded. She must have a lacy bra and panties somewhere in her back-pack. The idea made her feel very uncomfortable but she knew it was the only way to fit in and not get caught in Otto's Club.

The man walked over to one of the garbage bags up against the wall. He rummaged through it for a few seconds before he brought out a long, wide piece of red slightly shimmery, see-through material. He passed it over to her and she looked down at it confused.

"Use it as a veil," he said, staring over her shoulder at the sinisterly glowing doorway. "Tuck your hair up and cover up your eyes."

Blossom nodded slowly and he smiled before giving her a pat on the shoulder.

"Good luck," he said and she felt sick and scared to her stomach. "I'll be waiting upstairs."

Then he left her alone, shaking slightly by herself in the room. She heard him creaking up the stairs and the inside of her mouth was dry. The dark stairway seemed even more silently threatening when she was all alone. She half expected someone to come jumping out of the shadows to attack her and her stomach clenched up.

She quickly and efficiently got dressed into her laciest underwear and tied the material around her head, tucking her red hair away and pulling it down until it hung over her eyes. She took several deep breaths to calm herself down before she slowly floated up and into the red, sticky darkness.

She immediately broke out in a heavy sweat, moisture beading over her half-naked body. The ceiling seemed to tower above her, pitch black but she could faintly make out some strange carvings and inscriptions high, high above her. She realised floating would give her away and went down to walk across the old winding staircase instead.

This place seemed strange and so old...more majestic and ancient then anything she had ever been through in her life. It felt older even then Him...and that thought made her feel intensely uncomfortable as the green doorway shrank out of view behind her.

She walked on and on for what seemed like forever, feeling more queasy and scared by the second. The whole place seemed to be thrumming with history and thriving with long forgotten times from long, long ago. Something millenniums older then anything else she had ever known.

She could see a huge, wooden door looming up towards her and she quickened her pace, bare skin prickling. The huge, grand door was carved with strange symbols and etchings that she couldn't understand. Feeling tense and alert for any attack, she slowly turned the big brass doorknob and steadily pushed it open.

The red-headed girl peeked through the door, ready for any onslaught that would come. Nothing. Ahead of her, everything was dark and tinted red and she saw half-dressed, murmuring figures drift by, whispering and sniggering to each other. She was in a corridor and ahead of her, she made out glowing red lanterns and Japanese-style sliding panels made out of canvas and held together with bamboo. From behind the canvas she could faintly make out the shadowy shapes of figures, panting and groaning into each other...

She felt a wave of sickness go over her as she quietly slid out of the doorway, closing it shut behind her. On the other side of the door, it just faded unnoticed into the canvas, glowing slightly darker red around the edges. The girl felt frightened. How was she going to find it again? Would she be trapped in this seedy, sticky place forever?

The pink puff shook this from her mind. She had to start looking for Butch. The red-headed girl drifted over to join the streams of hissing, whispering people sliding around the halls. She sunk into the background, just another identical figure dressed in lingerie with her face hidden from view. No-one noticed her, drifting and giggling along.

She felt like she was floating in a surreal dream. Every corridor looked the same with identical canvas sliding doors and lanterns offering dim, shady light. People slid in and out of the rooms like smoke and the whole place smelt like incense and sex.

It was all making her feel dizzy and light-headed...and she started to feel numbed and dead-like. The hideout, Butch and her sisters seemed like a faint hazy memory. She felt like she _belonged _here...like she had _always _belonged here.

"_Come inside..._" a voice slithered out like a serpent from a doorway and she slowly stopped and turned around, blinking hazily in the direction of the sound. She couldn't tell if the scantily person was a girl or boy...but she found she didn't care, mind too full of fog to mind. Behind the figure and inside the room was black, glowing candles and a bed with ruffled sheets.

_Don't Blossom,_ a harder voice hissed in her mind and she smiled lazily from beneath her veil. _This isn't who you are._

"_Really...?" _she drawled in reply and the dark, shadowy figure smirked softly, its long fingers caressing it neck and chest.

_What about Butch? What about Buttercup? Are you just going to forget about them...?_

She pushed the voice to the back of her mind as she walked across the soft floor and into the room. The figure's long arms snaked around her neck and its hot lips pushed into her throat.

_Its going to take your veil off. Your going to get caught..._

Her eyes opened wide with shock as the figure's breath hummed against her sweaty skin. She lightly pushed her palms up against its chest.

"_I have to go...I'll come back soon...baby..._" she whispered, trying to sound sensuous and seductive as the the stranger smiled at her, showing its sharp, pointed teeth. Its fingernails skimmed over her bare stomach.

"_Come back soon,_" it hissed into her ear before giving her earlobe a little lick. She shivered violently and slipped away back into the corridor.

The whole experience had given her a nasty wake up call. This place had nearly succeeded in making her forget who she was...made her forget why she had come here in the first place. She had to get a grip on herself...not lose herself in the dark red shadows and the heaving, panting rooms.

She floated on through the identical, lust-filled corridors. It was like she was going around in endless circles, every room and passage-way looking exactly the same. Finding Butch here was going to be like finding a needle in haystack.

A desperate sob welled up inside of her. The sweat-slicked people brushed past her, pressing into her skin and she felt like she was drowning, sinking away into a world where she didn't belong. Her bare feet skimmed across the soft floor and she felt the black-red ceiling close down on her and the canvas walls come squeezing in.

"_Yes..." _she nearly jumped out of her skin at the soft, faintly familiar voice trailing from down the end of the hall. It still had that essence of sweetness singing out from deep within it, contrasting so horrendously with the writhing, dripping lust.

Blossom felt her heart skip a beat and a sick wave of nausea rolled over her as she slid closer and closer towards the old voice of her sister. The pink puff could make out her faint, skeletal shape from deep inside the room. The room she was occupying was much, much larger then any of the others and it sat right at the end of the hall, grand and important. Unlike the other love-nests, no-one else was entering and exiting it at will and people were avoiding it like the plague. Like it was private property and not for the lower classes.

She couldn't just stand by the canvas walls, listening in. She'd get caught. Reluctantly she slithered into the smaller room besides it, the two grunting shapes over by the bed completely ignoring her as she melted into the shadows and focused her ears on the sounds from next-door. The two other people didn't bother her and she shuddered a little. It must be very common for a third party to come into rooms and just watch what the bed-dwelling figures were doing.

The red-headed girl pricked her ears up and listened.

"_Do you think it'll work?" _the person that had once been Bubbles whispered, a slight whining edge to her voice. There was a dark chuckle from the other figure.

"_Oh yes...she's too frightened to think of any other way..._"

Blossom flinched with horror. It was Mr Ginger...her sister and Mr Ginger. The very thought of it was made her squirm in repulsion.

"_When will she arrive? When can we catch her?"_

"_Be patient, sweetie-pie," _Blossom felt bile rise acidly to her throat at the cooing honey-dipped venom in the man's voice.

"_I don't wanna," _the girl whimpered in a horrifying impersonation of a younger Bubbles. Blossom felt her skin crawling uncontrollably and her heart thumping sickly in her chest.

"_I wanna get her now. I wanna make Master happy...he'll be so happy with us..."_

"_Yeah...he will. He'll think we're so clever for catching her all by ourselves. He'll reward us for our initiative..."_

The twin simpering, dog-like grovelling made the red-headed girl want to cry. Where had the bold, brassy Brick gone? Where had her carefree, sugar-filled sister disappeared off to?

"_It's your turn for...looking after our little baby..." _Bubbles giggled softly and she heard the creak of bedsprings. Mr Ginger chuckled back.

"_Don't you want me to stay?" _he tittered girlishly and the wispy-haired girl just made little humming noises of approval.

"_Come back later...tell me all about it," _she drawled and the man began walking off towards the sliding canvas doors. Blossom crawled through the shadows to follow him. Mr Ginger had paused by the doorway and her heart seemed to stop...had he spotted her? She shrunk into a ball in the darkness.

"_You know what I'm gonna do to him?" _he teased over towards the girl inside the room and Blossom felt herself relax slightly in relief. _"I'm gonna do exactly what you did to our sweet little Buttercup."_

They both burst into sickening giggles.

"_Oh, punish him just liked I punished her..." _Bubbles tittered and Mr Ginger blew her a kiss before sliding the door shut again. Blossom watched as he tottered down the hall, bony hips swinging to and fro. Everyone surrounding him parted uneasily and pressed into the canvas walls as if he was Moses walking through the Red Sea.

Blossom slid behind him a few steps away, feeling her heart pound in a strange mixture of repulsion and excitement. She was sure he was leading her to wherever Butch was being kept and she followed him anxiously, fear swimming through her veins.

Mr Ginger slunk through two more corridors before they reached a spiralling staircase, leading downwards. People were crawling up and down it like ants and he pushed past them, unaware of the veiled girl quietly walking a few paces behind him.

The walked around and down the steps, swallowed up into the darkness and Blossom felt slightly sick and dizzy, going down and down the twisting stairs. She heard the faint throbbing sounds of music in the distance and her eyes slowly adjusted to the pitch blackness. She and a handful of other people were standing in a shadowy alcove. To the front she saw some stairs leading down to the wide wooden, dusty red backstage area, filled with innocent, chattering people.

Was this the alcove that Bubbles had stood in when she had last visited backstage before she had been drawn away into the shadows by a big, red claw? She shuddered as the people sniggered around her, watching the fresh meat sitting around in little circles around the wooden floorboards like lambs in a field.

Mr Ginger, however paid no attention to this. He was walking up a steep staircase to his front. To his left was the spiralling staircase that led to corridors he had just left behind. To his right another spiralling set of stairs led up to the very top of the towering red, velvet curtains where the Rats crept and schemed and down over to the dance-floor and the party-goers on the other side.

No-one else was going up the steep staircase. They were either standing watching their prey backstage, creeping over to the dance-floor or going back to the rooms where lust and sex ran wild.

Blossom waited until Mr Ginger was a fair bit ahead of her, before melting into the black shadows and levitating after him as silently as she could, breathing shallowly so not to catch his attention. She needn't worry about him hearing her though. He was breathing heavily although she wasn't sure if it out of desire or the steep upwards walk.

She hoped it was the latter.

They walked on for what seemed like a very long time, the black, narrow, low-ceilinged staircase, seeming to close down at her, the pounding music growing fainter and fainter in the distance. Her heart was pounding so hard in her chest, she was sure the figure ahead of her was going to turn around and stare out of the pitch blackness towards her with his big red eyes.

He didn't, seemingly focused on what lay ahead of him and Blossom tried desperately to keep the fear at bay. Light, shining brightly through the darkness lay a few metres ahead of them.

She stayed stationary in the dark doorway as Mr Ginger walked out into the long, narrow hall. The place looked very grand, with shining, polished floorboards and golden light shining throughout it. Painted vividly on the wall to the right was a long, twisting Chinese dragon, flying through a deep dark blue sky, red and purple scales flying and shimmering. A string of wispy smoke trailed out of its smiling jaws.

On the left wall, a huge painting of a Chinese dragon crouched, this one with a huge green fan circling around it's big, whiskered face. It's body, talons and tail spread out on either side of the hall and it sat against a scarlet background. It's big golden eyes stared down, it's jaws clamped shut.

There was a black door at the very end of the passage-way. Blossom watched and waited for Mr Ginger to walk down and into it. Curiously, the skeletal figure stopped halfway down the hall, next to the emerald dragon's closed jaws. He reached up as high as he could on his high-heels and tapped at the dragon's golden eye. Slowly a panel lowered at its mouth drew away, giving out the uncanny impression of black opening jaws.

Mr Ginger slid inside and Blossom didn't know what to do. Should she just wait here or follow him and risk being caught? What if when he left again, he closed the door and she'd be unable to get in?

She needn't worry. A few seconds later, Mr Ginger exited the chamber, leaving the dragon's mouth wide open and swaggered down the hall towards the little black door far, far away at the very end of the corridor.

Blossom shot through the air like a bullet, heart pounding with fear as she slid between the dragon's pointed teeth. Was she going to get caught? Sweat dribbled into her eyes and she wiped it away frantically.

She was in a dark room with a domed, gold, ornate ceiling, etched with symbols and figures. The walls were gold and covered with columns and columns of some strange language she didn't understand. In one corner was a pile of black silk sheets and in the middle of the room sat a silver gurney.

And on the gurney Butch lay, flat on his back, a black sheet tucked up under his chin. Blossom's heart jumped to her throat as she rushed over to his side.

"Butch, it's me!" she whispered, relief rushing through her as she shook his bone-white shoulder, trying to wake him up. His black hair was sticking up wildly around his head and his was mouth wide wide open with unflinching horror. His deep green eyes were dark with terrified fear and there were some red-raw slashes across his cheek. He made a creaking, rasping noise in the back of his throat, arm dangling weakly over the gurney's side.

"Butch c'mon!" she hissed desperately, pushing his head around. "We have to go, we have to go right now...!"

But the teen just stared up unblinkingly at the ceiling, staring at somewhere far away which only he could see. Blossom felt like crying. Would she have to carry him all the way back? She knew her time was ticking away...she knew at any time now she was going to get caught.

As soon as the thought went through her mind, she heard high-heels clicking down the corridor towards her. She whipped around, terror-stricken as the sounds of Mr Ginger's footsteps grew closer and closer.

What was she going to do? She couldn't go out in the hall...he'd catch her...and even if she did get away, all the rest of the scantily-dressed minions would be on her in a heart-beat. She looked around, frantically looking for another escape route. Nothing. She was trapped.

She had to get out, she had to get out...what was she going to do? Mr Ginger was so close now she could hear his crackling breath...what was he going to do when he caught her?

Her eyes spotted the black silk sheets in the corner and without thinking, she dove towards them. Quick as whip, she was pulling them over her body.

She didn't have time to curse her slow thinking, heart stampeding in her chest. She clamped her palm over her mouth to keep in her heavy pants as Mr Ginger slid in a second after she was completely concealed under the material.

She felt a wave of hopeless horror go over her as the scrawny figure closed the door behind him. He reached down and pulled something out from between the straps of his high-heels. It was a long, black jagged key.

She felt like she was going to cry as the key slid around in the door, locking all three of them inside.

The click of the lock sealed her fate, once and for all.

* * *

**A/N lol cliffhanger. hehehehe. **


	13. Escape

The girl lay shivering under the black sheets, trying as hard as she could to stay still as she listened to the sounds of Mr. Ginger click-clacking over towards his immobile victim on the gurney. Blossom watched through a tiny sliver in the material, terror momentarily freezing her mind.

Oh god she was going to die, she was going to die...

She saw him standing ram-rod straight over his raven-haired brother, spider-like hands lying flat against his fish-netted thighs. Her heart was pounding so hard, she thought it would burst raw and bloody from her chest, thought she'd collapse into a dead-faint right there and then...

His left hand slid up his bony ribs...she suddenly saw the shining knife glinting in the golden light as he drew his hand up his body...

She couldn't watch this...oh please god she couldn't watch this...

She had to save him, she couldn't just lie here...she had to stay hidden, she couldn't risk being seen...oh god what was she going to do?

Through the darkness of the black sheet, she saw Mr Ginger sliding over to his brother's side, blade still poised delicately in his grip. She saw his wild eyes and his slow, stretching grin, felt the sickness surge up from her stomach.

"_Brick?"_

He pulled the sheets down and Blossom tried to hold back the gasp of horror. Butch was dressed in a pair of black shorts and his entire body was covered in horrific looking gashes, bruises and burns. Old pus and scabs slicked his sweaty, pasty skin and some of the cuts were even beginning to look infected.

"_Hello darling,_" Mr Ginger whispered, his voice like rustling leaves as he leered over the motionless boy. Butch whimpered hoarsely and Blossom felt her heart grow swollen in her throat. The skeletal man pointed his knife down until it hovered over his brother's throat. The girl wanted to look away, needed to look away, couldn't bear to look any longer...

"Do you remember now, my love?" his voice was soft and gentle, but his eyes were as cold as ice. "Do you remember where your little friend is?"

"N-No..._no..._" Butch's voice bubbled and cracked from his his raw throat. Mr Ginger bared his yellow teeth for a second, before he turned and tip-tapped over towards one of the walls. He stroked his long nails over one of the symbols and a slot slid open. He reached into the small opening and pulled out a vial of liquid. He was grinning from ear to ear, as he advanced on his brother and his expression sent shivers up and down Blossom's spine.

"I think you're wrong, sweetie," he purred as he climbed onto the gurney, sliding the knife between his teeth and slithering over the raven-haired teen. "I think your _lying _to me."

It was like watching a bloodied car-wreck...she wasn't going to scream, she _wasn't_...

The horrific wail echoed through the room as the man poured some of the liquid onto his victim's chest. Blossom tried not to gag at the sickening, sizzling sound. Butch holding back sobs.

"_Tell me where she is._"

"No."

His scarlet eyes were gleaming as he straddled his brother's hips. He slid the knife from out between his blood-red lips and it glinted in the light as he slowly, painfully sliced away at the boy's flesh. The blood ran in thin rivulets, down Butch's heaving chest.

"_I'm your brother_..." he breathed in a sing-song voice, leaning down close to his face, eyes shining bright. "_Don't you love me_?"

Butch spat at him.

"My brother died," he said and his face was set and grim. "Just like you will soon."

"Mmmm...tough words..."

That was the moment when Blossom had to bury her head away, feeling the silent tears pour down her cheeks. She had to save him...she had to help him...the screams rang through her mind as Mr Ginger continued his onslaught. Should she wait until he left? Or should she burst out and stop him now? Everyone would be on her in a second if she attacked...but...but what about _Butch?_

What was she going to do?

The question was answered for her, when she cracked her eye open and saw Mr Ginger sliding off onto the ground again. He licked his lips and wiped his gaunt, blood spotted cheek.

"Maybe I'll come back later...when you've learnt how to _co-operate,_" he went to put the vial away and with a high-pitched giggle, strutted back out of the room, the door slamming shut behind him. The red-head listened to his steps, disappearing down the hall and down the staircase before she was certain he was gone. She raced to the boy's side.

"_Butch, Butch! _We have to go _now!_" she shook him violently and he stared up at her with wide haunted eyes. A burn was eating away at the side of his mouth, like some sort've ghastly lopsided smile.

"Grab the vial," he whispered, voice cracked and desperate.

"What?"

"_The vial..._"

Blossom, not thinking twice, sprinted towards the wall where Mr Ginger had been before. She quickly retrieved the vial from its hiding place. She heard Butch struggling to his feet behind her as she stuffed it down her bra.

"C'mon! We have to hurry!" she ran back to his side, putting her arm around his waist to steady him. He threw his arms around her shoulder, leaning his whole weight against her, but this was no problem for Blossom. She flew out of the dragon's mouth, supporting him easily, down the grand, golden corridor and towards the black staircase. Her heart was pounding and her throat was dry as she floated as quietly and carefully as possible, down towards the red glowing lights below.

_Oh please God, make them think we're just another couple, don't let them catch us please..._

Butch was breathing heavily into her hair and she could feel his blood sliding down the side of her face, felt that the arm holding him was coated with it. Her stomach churned and she tried not to gag. They floated down through the darkness, the heat and the throbbing music growing louder, louder, heavier, heavier...

They finally paused in the blackness of the doorway. No-one was looking their way, the whispering shapes watching the innocent lambs backstage hungrily. The two landed on the ground softly and slid unnoticed towards the spiraling black stairs. Butch's breath was shallow and his hands dug around her neck; the cold glass of the vial pushed uncomfortably into her sweaty skin...she was brave...she was brave...

The music pounded in her ears as they walked up and up, growing dizzy as they pushed against the crowding people. They were in the lusty, steamy red-tinted corridors once more. But now...how in the hell were they going to find their way out again?

Butch's feet were dragging, he was a heavy weight against her and his head lolled as he stumbled through the corridors. She tightened her grip around him, the murmuring shadows lurking all around, like ghosts. If only something could point them in the right direction...

They turned a corner and straight ahead she picked out the back of a blonde head, far, far ahead of them in the crowd. Her heart pounded painfully in her mouth..._just keep on walking, keep on walking, don't act suspicious, its going to be okay..._

Then it happened.

Like a fox, catching the scent of blood, the blond head turned to the side. Her face was sharp and cold and her unblinking blue eyes stared straight into the redhead's bright pink ones. Her thin, pink lips turned up into a horrific smile and Butch made a terrified sound from beside her.

"_Butch run...find the back door, run, Butch you have to..._"

Bubbles pushed a bunch of people away and started striding towards them...the crowd parted to let their mistress through and Butch and Blossom were immediately stumbling for cover.

"_I can't leave you..._"

"_Run goddammit!"_

There was a harsh humming sound emitting from the crowd, as if the people had been replaced by angry bees. She felt their claws and their blank faces pushing in and grabbing at her hair, forcing her to the ground. She saw Bubbles maniacally grinning face growing closer, closer...she was going to die. This was the end...

The blast of energy ripped out of her hand in an instant, tearing the swarm apart and ripping a hole in the ceiling and the canvas walls. People went flying and in the chaos, she saw Butch clambering away down the corridor. Bubbles, who had managed to stand her ground, threw her hand up, her face twisted and vicious. Blossom scrambled away from the violent blast at the last minute and turned to throw another attack over her shoulder, as she raced away from the scattering crowd. She saw her sister deflect the ball of energy easily, continuing towards her.

She sprinted around the corner, almost tumbling over her feet, and the entire wall exploded, dust, canvas and debris almost blinding her and she stumbled backwards, screaming. Bubbles kicked away one of the bodies that had been in the room and thrusted her hands forward. The force hit the redhead in the stomach like a cannonball and she was sent flying through the walls, tearing them apart as she was blasted away.

Blossom coughed up blood as she landed painfully in a heap on the floor. She couldn't understand what was going on. Bubbles had never been this strong...

"_Run, run, run as fast as you can..._" came the giggling voice from somewhere ahead of her. Every part of her body screamed in agony as she struggled to her feet. She saw Bubbles getting closer. Blossom threw a blaze of energy at her, then another, then another, the blasts destroying more and more of the floors, walls and ceilings. The blond's grin was fixed and her eyes never blinked as she deflected the attacks, one after the other, growing closer all the time.

Choking back the sob, the desperate girl kicked into speed, ripping through the canvas walls, trying to find her way back, trying to find a way out, she had to get out, she had to get away, how was she going to get away...? She flew as fast as she could, legs racing madly. Then, hit with a burst of inspiration, she stopped, picked up one of the beds from a nearly destroyed room, lifted it easily over her head and threw it as hard as she could towards her sister. This finally did the job and with a surprised "_oof", _Bubbles went flying backwards, crashing through the destruction they had both made, crumpling against the ground. Blossom didn't look back as she ran onwards.

All the corridors were looking the same as the pink puff zapped down them. She could hear the blond's furious screeches behind her as she flew around corner after corner. Blossom didn't know where the hell she was going...she flew through corridor after endless corridor...they were all identical, they were all fucking identical, she was going to be stuck here forever...

"_No, nonononono. _NO!" she came to a sliding halt. She was back at the spiraling stairs. She couldn't be here again. This couldn't be happening. Butch was probably on the other side of the building right now. She felt like she was being caged in, trapped, like a cat with a mouse.

"_Sister, sister trapped in the walls...who will die in the most pain of all?" _

The girl turned before she could comprehend what had been said and instantly the white-hot pain exploded from every point in her body. She felt herself flying backwards, as if weightless through the air and her eyes rolled back, tongue lolling to the back of her throat. With a smack she landed on solid ground. There was something hot and slick and coppery running into her eyes, clogging up her nose and her throat...she vaguely recognized that she was in the alcove over the backstage area, before another blast sent her tumbling through the air once more.

The whole world was black and blank for what seemed like an eternity and there was an endless droning in her ears. Everything seemed fuzzy and dead. White light shone behind her eyes and it seemed to take a lifetime for her to regain her focus. There was something sharp and pointy digging into her bare stomach and it seemed she was being supported by something and then...strangely not. A ripping noise sounded in her ears, somewhere very close...

Her vision blurred and then finally cleared. She was dangling over the railings at the top of the huge velvet curtains. Half of her body was hanging on, the other top half hanging down towards the long drop below.

There were angry shouts somewhere far, far behind her. Something was dripping from her nose...and her mouth...and when she realized it was blood, she found she barely even cared. Everything hurt so much...every part of her body was in such awful pain...

The ripping sound grew louder and she felt herself dropping a few inches down.

"_Where is she? Where is she!"_

She didn't care...

"_Tell me where she is!"_

She didn't care if she died...

"_Get the fuck outta my way! Get the fuck away from me!"_

At least she'd see the Professor again.

"_Get off...!"_

The tearing noise grew so violent, she nearly fell head first all the way to the wooden ground below. All that supported her now was her ankles and her arms spun wildly in the blackness, her breath hitching, the blood dribbling in blobs from her nose and mouth. The darkness was all around her. She could feel her eyes pound as all the blood ran down to her head.

What...what was that?

The heaving, screeching, voice seemed to be getting closer...

Her eyes were steadily adjusting to the darkness...she could make something out down there...

Was that a...figure? On the ground? All the way down in the darkness? Someone who could save her? Her heart pounded wildly as she tried to gather her strength, arms still spinning, helplessly sucking in breath. Why wasn't this person on the ground trying to help her? Could they see her? Should she call out? She tried to focus her eyes even more.

The girl was dangling perilously from the curtains now, inches away from slipping entirely. She could here the panting behind her growing louder, louder still...

Was it...could it be...the sister she was trying to save?

Was it Buttercup?

Her pink eyes shone down brightly to the narrow strip of ground far, far beneath her. She made out the heavy form...it seemed to be lying on the ground. It seemed to be too heavy to be Buttercup. She wanted to yell out...but her throat was caked with blood, too hoarse to make a sound. The quickly slipping girl stared even harder then before, desperately trying to make out the shape.

Then she saw it...the eyes staring back up at her. They could see her! They could help her! They could...

Her breath caught in her throat and she choked back the horrified scream...

The person on the ground wasn't Buttercup at all. It was Mary, from when she'd been backstage, from when she'd been at kindergarten. Her blank eyes stared up at her from the darkness and now Blossom could see...could see the little black shapes crawling over her...like rats...the Rats. Mary was covered in Rats...

They were eating her.

Blossom wasn't going to vomit...she wasn't going to scream...because then they'd turn and they'd see her and they'd crawl up the curtains with their teeth and their eyes...and what if she'd called out before, what would've happened, oh god, that was Mary, Mary her friend since she was five...this couldn't be happening, it couldn't, this was too foul, this couldn't be real...

Her eyes were staring right into hers...wet and desperate. Her lips twitched and mouthed something and Blossom, cold with complete horror, made out the words _help me_ as her body was nibbled slowly away.

She screamed. She screamed and she screamed and she screamed, until her throat tore apart with acid bile and the blood bubbled down out of her mouth. Screamed until her eyes bulged out and the spit flew in stringy rivulets...

Triumphant laughter cackled in her ears and someone grabbed her around the ankle, pulling her upwards, away from the half-alive corpse on the ground, away from the hungry Rats and...a slightly cracked bottle...a vial...it was slipping out from between her breasts and falling...falling. Wait.

She reached out and grabbed it easily. Grabbed it before it fell and shattered on the ground.

Turned around. Look into her face, insane with glee. There's cracks on her face and the make-up is so caked on, it almost drips off with her perspiration. There's red veins sticking out from within her wide bulging eyes...her lips are slick with saliva and her teeth are pointy and orange...

_Bubbles was friends with Mary. Bubbles was friends with so many people. So many innocent people._

Up close you could see the bald patches in her hair, her skin so brittle and translucent you could count every bright blue vein, the very outline of her bony skull, see the scars and the cracks and the spots and the tears in her paper-like flesh...

_And she let them die...die like that. Die like fucking animals and she didn't even care. She didn't even fucking care. _

Her claw flew up in the air, sparking with power. The other pair of long, needle-sharp painted nails clenched vice-tight around her throat...her mouth was wide open like a smiling lion's jaw, her eyes popping out of her skull, spit flying from her mouth...

_She was their friend..._

Blossom's fist flew up and the vial of acid smashed in the creature's face. She howled and Blossom pushed. She went tumbling over her, over the railings but her claws grabbed the curtain just in time. The girl looked down to see her skin sizzling and burning, her bloodthirsty expression never changing, shards of glass sticking out of her brutally mangled face...

"I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU!" she shrieked and the curtain finally tore completely down, sending her falling all the way down to the starving Rats below.

_Get Mary..._

_It's too late for her._

_No...she's my friend..._

_You have to get Butch. It's too late for her..._

There were screeches of agony and tearing, ripping noises below.

_You have to run, you have to run now!_

Why did everything hurt so?

_C'mon for fuck's sake run!_

The blood blinded her as she stumbled to get to her feet, nearly falling, before she gained enough energy to fly. She felt the skin from her ankle rip away as it caught on the railings and she screamed. Through the blaze of red in her eyes, she could see the set of stairs that led over the top of the curtains, down to either the backstage or the dance-floor.

She laughed hysterically, her voice almost feral as the wails below her grew louder. She launched herself forward, the pain in her ankle white-hot. She clambered up, struggling and twisting, before she managed to drag herself up onto the black metal stairs. She tumbled all the way down to the alcove below.

_You could just go through the door backstage..._

_But Butch...don't forget Butch..._

Her bare feet smacked loudly on the ground, burning pain shooting through her body as she raced onwards not even caring where she was going...through the destroyed remains of the corridors. Bodies were crawling weakly through the refuse...she ran blindly past them.

"BUTCH! BUUUUTCH!"

_Where was he, where was he, where the hell was he?_

Corridor after demolished corridor...

"BUTCH! WHERE ARE YOU?"

She wasn't going to fucking die here...

"_Blossom? B-Blossom?"_

She felt like almost crying with laughter. She sped towards the sound of his voice, nearly going head over heels, nearly crashing through one of the few standing walls...

"BUTCH?"

"Bloss-Blossom where are you?"

His voice was growing louder. He was near now. Then she turned the corner and there he was...with his hands up against a wall with a faintly glowing outline. His face was completely dripping with dark, red blood but his grin was wide and happy as soon as he laid eyes on her.

"Les's go!"

They crashed through the wall and down to that strange, unnervingly regal staircase. The huge, carved wooden door slammed shut behind them and they were sprinting down, down...away into the darkness...they were nearly home.

Her footsteps seemed slower...like some old, ancient force was trying to drag her back up to hell. She turned to Butch, saw his face contorted in agony as he tried to fight onwards...he was falling behind. There was a strange roaring in her ears. Everything seemed to be closing in on her.

Then Butch stretched out his hand and looked into her eyes. Blossom took it unquestioningly...and they ran and they ran...and the screaming in her ears was growing so strong now, she though her head was going to burst like a rotten tomato. They ran and they ran...the roaring noise like thunder waves crashing down on them, drowning them...

The rectangle of green loomed ahead. Then...finally...they were tumbling through it, hands firmly clasped together, tumbling out into Blossom's bedroom. She turned just in time to see the glowing red door, blazing like all the fires of hell were raging within, shrink smaller and smaller and smaller, until with a crack of scarlet light, it was simply a slip of paper once more.

Butch collapsed face first onto the mattress, heaving heavily. Blossom, however was still running.

"Where the hell are yer goin'?" he shouted after her, but she didn't bother to listen. It took her five seconds to run through the green-lighted, secret hideout, up the stairs and through the trap-door.

"Gill! Gill I found him, he's okay! GILL!"

She screeched to a stop in the middle of the pub. Her voice stopped in her throat. She looked around, mouth falling slightly open...

Dust, cobwebs and spiders coated every inch of the pub. The cracked walls and ceiling were coated with graffiti and years-old dirt and grime. The bar was falling to pieces, the stools were upturned and she could the nibbling sounds of bugs all around her. Litter, broken glass and rain puddles covered the floor, flying through from the smashed windows and doors. The only objects that looked like they had been used recently was a television, one lone, polished stool and a pet's food bowl on the ground. Other then that, the whole place was clearly deserted.

Blossom stood motionless as the wind blew around her. She heard the creak of the trap-door behind her but she didn't move, mouth hanging dully open. This couldn't be happening. This didn't make sense. This didn't make sense at all...

"For Christ's sake whaddya doin'? C'mon, you'll fuckin' freeze tah death out 'ere..."

She turned around, and her eyes were manic and brimming with tears.

"Where's Gill?"

The teen just stared at her confusedly. She grabbed him forcibly by the shoulders and shook him so hard, his head rattled.

"_Butch where's Gill?"_

He shoved her away and the tears poured down her cheeks. He looked at her, seeming almost frightened as if she was becoming hysterical.

"BUTCH PLEASE!" it was like her whole world was crumbling down, falling apart around her, all over again. Butch just shook his head and took a step back.

"Blossom...who the _hell_ is Gill?"

* * *

**A/N another cliffie derp. But yeah, gotta say a massive thank-you to the rather startling amount of people who reviewed the last chapter. You really made my day...made me feel special. And guilted me into writing faster. so yeah, when people review, I really do try to get out another chapter quickly. i feel really bad otherwise. anyways hope you enjoyed, (ya know i really was planning on doing that to Mary from the beginning :D) and peace out fellas!**


	14. Destruction

Look at the pretty cracks in the ceiling.

Full of dust.

It's so quiet. Has the rain stopped? She didn't know. She didn't know...

Someone was talking to her.

But she didn't want to hear.

Look at the pretty cracks in the ceiling. Do they make a pattern? No. Of course not.

Cracks in the ceiling don't mean anything. Not anything at all.

She likes them so much.

…

…

_Get a fucking hold of yourself._

The voice was harsh and unforgiving.

"Please Blossom..."

The other voice was gruffly plaintive...strangely familiar...

Begging for her not to leave...don't leave like they all did. Your strong, please your so strong, if you give up what are we going to do? I can't...I can't lose anymore please.

She heard him leave the room, rough, thumping footsteps...heard him kicking the walls furiously, swearing, then sitting down and just becoming so deadly quiet.

Get a hold of yourself, goddammit, pull yourself together.

But it hurt too bad, you don't understand.

It hurts too bad.

Please...

Just let me rot here.

Rot?

Crumble away?

Like Bubbles?

You couldn't save her.

But what about Buttercup?

Can you save her, Blossom?

You just going to leave her, Blossom?

Leave her to be eaten away like Bubbles?

Well are you?

Bubbles had been so beautiful...

And that's when she opened her eyes.

A worn blanket was strewn over her knees and wrapped around her shoulders. She slowly hugged it closer. She appeared to be sitting down...on a wooden crate, yes. The rain had stopped. Dust and stray cobwebs was trickling down from the wooden ceilings. She heard footsteps sounding around her.

Butch?

Of course.

Her eyes were painfully gummed over with sleep. She exhaled harshly, watching a tuft of red hair blow up from the force of it. What was she doing? What was she doing here?

The door suddenly swung open, but the girl barely acknowledged it. Someone walked over and crouched down beside her. She stared at him with squinted eyes and felt him flinch with surprise. He coughed nervously.

"So...awake then?"

She just gazed at him narrowly as he scratched at the back of his neck, avoiding her eyes. She slowly noticed the bowl of soup he had placed on the floor while bending down. Somehow, this made the knot in her chest gradually begin to unwind and the lump in her throat grow stronger.

"Look.."

The young man plunged his hand into his pocket and rummaged around for a few seconds, before pulling something out. It was a tattered, folded up photo which Butch quickly unfolded and smoothed out. He showed it to her and her eyes swam, struggling to focus.

"I...I found this in wunna of the garbage bags in yer room...does...does he look...familiar or anyfink?"

Three young boys, who looked around eight or nine, were floating around a tall, broad-shouldered African-American man with a shiny bald head. They all seemed incredibly happy...happier then she'd ever seen any of them. She was suddenly reminded of the photo that had been shown on the news, with her old family cuddled together with glee...

"Blossom?"

She just stared blankly. She saw him swallow roughly and fold the photo back up again, putting it back into his pocket.

"Was his name Guillaume?"

His voice was soft and faraway. She felt her head nod up and down of its own accord and a pained crease appeared between his eyes.

"He...he was one of our foster parents...the best one."

He was silent for a few minutes, staring cloudy-eyed, down at the floor.

"But 'e died..."

He shook his head furiously, face twisted up with pain.

"How the _fuck _was 'e here? I don't...what the hell is goin' on?"

There was a clatter and a curse and she watched as the soup spread in a silent puddle across the floor.

"Fuck!"

He stood, picking up the upturned bowl from the ground. He stormed out of the room, leaving her alone once more. She heard him slamming various drawers around in the kitchen...and she felt herself slowly drifting away again, not wanting to take the pain, not wanting to listen anymore. She felt her eyes fall slowly half-shut and her breath whistle soggily through her parched lips.

Through the long stretches of hazy grey, under her wet, quivering eyelashes...she saw him cleaning up the mess...looking over her with a clenched jaw and damp eyes...tucking the blankets under her chin.

Gill?

How was he dead?

It didn't make sense. It just...

Had it been a ghost?

Then...then why had the room been all rotten and falling apart when it hadn't been like that before? Was she losing her mind? Was she even here at all? Maybe she died that night in the alley-way, lost in the rain and all of this was some kind've personal hell...?

No. No. That couldn't be. She was letting her imagination run away with her.

The honey-lighted room with the gentle jazz and the polished floors...a haven of calm in the cracked, graffiti sprayed streets surrounding it...an illusion.

An illusion.

No.

Had it been...?

Do you remember the dream world he made with a whisper of pink smoke, do you remember the broken, screaming future he made to try and break your spirit, do you remember where Bubbles said he brought her, the black canvas with the lovely singing animals, the magic chalk...do you remember, do you remember...

Smoke and mirrors.

But he was weak.

So weak.

And now he could only twist and distort one lonely old abandoned pub in one lonely old abandoned street.

But why? Why?

She thought he was trying to find her? Trying to drag her away?

But he'd found her.

He'd known all along.

And he hadn't done anything...

"Blossom? What're yer doin'?"

The voice was like a knife ripping through her daydreams. She blinked confusedly, the world rushing back to her, like she'd broken through the surface of the ocean. Slowly, she realized she was standing, pressed up against the wall with her palms and her ear pushed up flat against the wood...as if she was trying to hear something. Trying to listen...

Butch was staring at her as she hurriedly stepped back from the wall. She felt herself waver slightly on the spot, before she regained her balance. She blinked her bleary eyes at him, struggling to suck in air.

"It was...it was..."

Breathe in. Breathe out. Rinse and repeat.

"It was Him. Him...was upstairs. He was upstairs all along..."

The tears were bubbling silently down her cheeks and the walls seemed to be looming down on her. No longer safe...they had never been safe...never been safe...the walls were closing in...closing in...closing in...

And she felt hands at her shoulders, pressing her back down to the floor again. There was spit at her chin and grimy tear tracks down her cheeks. Green eyes bored into hers...eyes so much like Buttercup's...but so much wearier and old...

"Breathe Blossom."

She felt the air rattling weakly around her lungs. She wheezed it back in, trying to fight the growing hysteria threatening to explode out of her, leaving only an empty, bleeding husk behind. She couldn't stand this anymore. She couldn't take this anymore. This was too much. She couldn't handle it, she couldn't.

"You don't...understand..." she croaked, voice hollow and dead. "How do I know...if any of it was the truth?"

Had it all been lies? The story he fed her with the blueberry pie and cream? And why had he been so...angry? When they took Butch away? Wasn't that what he wanted?

"...play with us...?...play with his food...before he ate it?"

They had ruined his fun and now he had gone to punish them. Or to finally tell them where they were?

Butch's face had gone as white as paper. She saw him look around, as if he expected someone folded up in the shadows or hanging from the ceiling, smiling and hungry and ready to strike. They were in his web...they'd fallen into it blindly and he'd been sitting there all along, waiting for the right time to feast...

"It's gonna be okay," he whispered hoarsely and she felt his arms wrap around her. He tucked her head under his chin and she felt how hard his heart was beating, how scared he was. His safe haven had been violated...everything he had once known was falling apart.

"It's gonna be okay..." the words were hissed maniacally, almost if he was trying desperately to convince himself it was true and she dug her fists weakly into the fabric of his shirt, trying not to crumble, trying not to fall away into dust at his feet.

"We's gonna get out of 'ere...okay? We're geddin' out of 'ere..."

He stood, dragging her up with him. He glanced over his shoulder and then let go of her shoulders. She wobbled slightly on her feet again, her eyes blank and unfocused, all of the shadows suddenly seeming deeper, darker...

"C'mon," he said, slapping her slightly on the forearm. "Go get yer things...we gotta go."

The girl gulped roughly as he led her towards the door, her feet dragging slightly as she went. He ran a hand through his hair, panicking as she leant against the door-jamb.

"Um...I'll go get...I'll go get Boomer...I'll meet you up stairs."

"Okay."

She had to get a hold of herself...she had to pull herself together. She was acting so weak and helpless.

"Quickly!"

Run. Run down the hallway, that's a good girl. Don't fall over, cause if you do you'll never get up again. There's eyes watching you in the shadows, following you, there's hands at your feet, sharp grabbing claws...if you slow down, they're gonna get you. They're gonna get you Blossom. You gotta run Blossom, you gotta run...

The corridors seemed so long now...the shadows darker...was there breath at her neck, or was she imagining it? Was she imagining...imagining? She didn't know...she just didn't know.

Down the stairs.

Butch was going to get the cat and she was going to grab her stuff and they were going to run and it was going to be okay. Everything would be okay.

Where were they going to go?

They had to save Buttercup.

Were they lost in this strange, vast world?

Had they lost? Had they already lost the fight?

She felt his hot breath, his hungry dripping teeth...he was closing in. Sweeping in to the mice huddled in the corner.

She slammed through the last green lighted corridor, the lights and the walls spinning madly and she burst through her bedroom door. She sighed in relief. The hallways seemed so threatening now, but somehow, the old room still gave her peace. She collapsed to her knees on the splintery floor. She was nearly there. She had nearly made it. It was going to be okay.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Close your eyes. Relax. You're in your room, its going to be alright.

She stayed there, motionless for a few moments, even though it felt like a lifetime was passing. She was safe here. It was her bedroom. Just open your eyes Blossom, open your eyes and grab your things. The room would give her strength to brace the hungry corridors again.

The girl's breath was evening and her eyes fluttered open. Somehow, she'd managed to calm herself down, or at least a little bit.

Maybe she was overreacting?

Maybe they weren't as trapped as they thought?

The lights shone dimly down at her and the dust was thick and still. She smoothed her hair back and moved to her bed, where a pile of clothes and books she had taken from the library sat. Quickly, the red-headed teen shoved them into her backpack, which was sitting nearby. No need to panic. Everything was going to be fine. Just work ahead, work quickly and efficiently and you'll be okay. She took the toy alligator from beside her pillow and shoved it in as well. What else did she need?

The card?

Probably.

She turned around and reached to grab it...

And her arm flopped bonelessly back down.

Her insides turned to jelly and her whole body went numb.

Her tongue was growing heavy and swollen in her dry, scratchy mouth.

No.

A red, soft glow was radiating solemnly from the stationary slip of paper on the floor. Soft and steady.

What was happening?

Don't panic. No need to panic.

She watched with wet eyes, frozen to the spot. No need to panic? Everything would be fine?

What was that? What was that sound? A creaking, cracking echoing noise, like an old, ancient door swinging slowly open, after centuries of remaining closed.

The almost depthless horror was gripping her whole. She was drowning in the endless fear.

_Move, you have to move, oh god please move..._

What was that? Something thin and ragged and white, like cracked bones. Clawing up...clawing outwards. Scabby, broken skin pushed out of the tiny slip of paper, unnaturally large for something so small. It almost looked like it was clambering out of the floor. The hand scratched around the floorboards, grotesquely long, painted nails clicker-clacking and Blossom wasn't going to scream...why wasn't she running? Why was she just sitting here? She had to run, she had to run...

Another hand...long, unnaturally bony arms stretching outwards, arms with huge chunks of flesh ripped out, the raw muscle glistening in the light. This was a nightmare, this couldn't be real, it couldn't be, it couldn't be. Somehow, she found her feet and somehow she was stumbling for the door, tripping, almost sobbing...

That face couldn't belong to anything human. A walking corpse, with thick dripping make-up slathered over the deep, slimy black-red holes in its face. She saw the gleam of its exposed gums, the few strings of hair remaining on its peeling scalp, the wide unblinking bulging eyes and...

"You should always lock the door behind you, dear," hissed the creature, deadened rasp ripping from its broken vocal cords. It lunged.

Blossom slammed the door in its face but its eaten away arm got caught at the last second, pushing around the front of it. Snapped nails scraped at the wood, leaving deep gouges and the heaving, painful breaths slobbered and rattled from its clawed and bleeding throat.

_Crush it...hear the squelch of its arm..._

And she was running, racing, sprinting for cover. She tried to gather enough energy to fly for safety, but she couldn't, the terror was gripping her body, paralyzing her mind, she was going to die, it was going to kill her...

As she bounded up the first few steps, her back-pack slamming against her legs, she screamed as the deafening explosion screeched in her ears, forcing her to cover them as she was pushed upwards by the blast. Looking behind her, she saw the entire bottom floor filling up with grey smoke and licking orange flames. A shape was flying through the collapsing corridor, ash and wood and palings falling in mountains to the quickly disappearing floor.

Out-stretched claws, faded orange hair, red-painted lips, smug red eyes...

The adrenaline pulsed through her like poison.

"BUTCH! BUTCH!"

Her legs left the ground in an instant and she was whipping down the quickly disintegrating hallway, black billowing smoke filling her nose and lungs. A buzzing, droning noise sounded in her ears and she threw herself to the side instinctively. The blast of orange power whizzed past her and she desperately tried to avoid being crushed by the crumpling roof. The fire blazed and the blood poured down her cheek and the whole world was suffocating ash and flying debris and she heard someone screaming far, far above her...

Scarlet eyes shone through the blackness.

"Why are you crying, sweetie?" he taunted. "I'm just having some fun."

The yells were getting fainter, fainter and the roars of the fire and the caving in building was all she could hear and he was growing closer and his hands were aiming, squeezing...

Roll away...

The blast tore a hole in the floor and she felt herself falling with it. She was tumbling down, down to the ground, smashed palings, broken glass crashing after her, burying her, covering her up, choking, choking...blood clogged up her mouth, pain screamed in her ears, her whole body was howling. She was sinking, sinking, drowning, drowning. The weight on her body was growing heavier by the second and she felt the last anguished breaths sob out of her throat, filling so quickly with ash and splinters and hot, sticky blood. The pain was like no other, agony so bad her body was going numb, as she felt her flesh rip and tear and squash, her internal organs pressing together.

What a way to die.

Crushed under a house.

But she didn't even care anymore. She had already lost. She had lost the minute she had come here, walked into Gill's welcoming arms, trusted his caring eyes, fallen for his trap. She'd been dying all along and she just hadn't known it.

The girl curled up pathetically, letting the endless outpour of rubble bury her alive, the wreckage raining down on her ripped and broken body. Just give up. What was the point of trying to fight?

She felt her eyes fall closed.

She felt the darkness loom in.

…

…

Voices calling ...

Voices calling...

Her name. They were calling for her...

Everything glowed white under her eyelids...wind whipped at her hair...was she flying? She felt totally weightless, like she was rushing through the clouds.

The pain was like she had been eaten alive, spat out and shredded to bits...every bone, every limb, every inch of skin howled, peeling and bubbling and bursting at the seams. She felt like her insides had been reduced to pulp and when she coughed, mouthfuls of choking wetness rolled from her lips...

What were they?

Those red-black, flopping things beneath her? Were they her legs? There was something banging against her knees. What was that? Red glowing orbs, like the devil's himself, racing upwards, shining teeth, growing closer...

Her body was flung to the side, as rays of burning heat missed her by an inch. She felt the ends of her hair scorch and sizzle.

Someone was shooting blast after blast of glowing green power at the red eyed demon, screaming something at the top of their lungs. What was it?

"Don't look down, it's gunna be okay, for Christ's sake don't yer dare fuckin' die, don't you fuckin' dare..."

They tore upwards and she clung to his arm, kicking her feet to try and gain momentum. She flung her hand and the crackling ball of electric pink shot down and Mr Ginger's eyes widened in shock, before it hit him full in the face, sending him hurtling downwards again, down to the broken hell of charred black rubble below.

The trap door was hanging from its hinges and they burst through it, Blossom's legs dangling uselessly behind her. All of the energy had left her, having been completely drained from the efforts of forming the attack just moments before. She felt the vomit surging in her throat like acid, her head pounding mercilessly...

The floor of the pub was rapidly falling away and Butch scrambled up it, dragging the girl behind him, nearly wrenching her arm out of its socket. Looking at him, she saw the blood pouring from his face, slicking his hair back, the singed ends of his shirt, the slashes and scratches up his arms...he must've gotten half of those digging her out of the ruins far, far below them.

The late afternoon sky shone through the holes ripped in the ceiling and the sounds of sirens filled her ears. They were going to make it. They weren't going to die.

Butch threw them both out onto the cracked pavement as the building slowly, finally broke down entirely behind them, the massive clouds of ash and smoke staining the golden-streaked sky. The moaning, groaning sounds filled the air and made the urge to be sick even stronger.

The man stood, clutching his side, entire half of his face blackened, the other half gashed open and oozing blood. The screech of tires and burnt rubber were echoing through the streets and ringing in their minds and suddenly...Butch pointed.

"Look!"

And she did.

Half-way down the litter-choked, pot-holed road was a narrow alleyway and she made out the faint shape of a screeching cat sprinting down it. She blinked at it wearily, dragging herself slowly across the scratching pavement, dull recognition thrumming through her.

Follow the cat.

Police cars were racing around the corner on the other end of the street, followed by howling fire-engines and they were roaring towards them...they were getting so close now...come closer...

Follow the cat.

She was on her feet and she saw the car door of the first police car slamming open. Others were following suit and uniformed men were racing towards her, snarling and spitting something her mind couldn't compute, pointing guns and screaming an indistinguishable mess of words and...

Everything seemed so slow...like she was running underwater in a dark, endless blue world...

"Butch!" she turned around as they struggled to run...struggled to launch herself into mid-air...

Someone was rising from the destroyed remains of the building behind them. Rising into the air like a monster from the ocean's depths. It's eyes bulged and its mouth flopped grotesquely open and its wrists crossed, pushing forward. Blossom screamed Butch's name...but it was too late...too late. The glowing white spear of energy shot out and Butch jolted as it hit him square in the back, his arms flying out wildly as he fell to his knees.

Bubbles sunk away into the darkness, eyes glowing malevolently as the police and the fire fighters finally reached them. Blossom was at Butch's side in an instant and the rain of bullets fired down at them. There was screaming in her ears and it took her a moment to realize they were her own. She batted the bullets away easily and looked up, eyes glowing dark pink as she shot her red laser beams at the screaming men.

He couldn't be dead.

And she picked him up, ignoring the broken tearing of her own skin and the adrenaline hit her again, the fury at the monster that called itself her sister spurning her on.

The world was put into fast-forward once more, her vision flashing white-hot, the pain like millions of needle pricks all over her body...

Her fists slammed into flabby, useless flesh, smashing bones, breaking teeth and her fury had no ends. Kicking, ripping, tearing.

He couldn't be dead

The crowd began to part and she tore back down the street, eyes blinded with blood and tears, not even feeling the weight of the boy on her shoulders. Follow the cat, follow the...

What was it doing?

Was it waiting for her?

It was. With it's glowing yellow eyes. Perched on a garbage can lid and when it saw her, it began to race down the endless, narrow alley-way, black tail perched high above its head as it ran.

Follow the cat.

Follow it through what seemed like thousands of thousands of dark, dank streets, spiraling down an endless labyrinth of crawling lanes...

She didn't remember the bad side of town being as expansive as this.

Was Butch stirring at her shoulder, or was she imagining it? Please don't let her be imagining it.

Please be alive, oh please...

Follow the cat. Follow its tail. Follow the pitter-pat of its feet.

How long would she be running for? Would she be running for the rest of her life?

As if reading her mind. The scraggly feline came to a stop, jumping atop the rusty, black railings of a set of stairs in the darkest, narrowest, filthiest of all the alley-ways she had ever seen. There was a door at the top of the stone steps.

No. Oh God no.

She wasn't going back into a house, where lies and cobwebs were spun and hung from every corner. She wasn't. Butch's weight was suddenly unbearable on her shoulder and the urge to cry had never been stronger. Was it just his weight, or the weight of the whole world bearing down at her? Crushing her into a pulp?

She couldn't take it...she wasn't strong. She was weak and pathetic...she couldn't do it. Please, no more.

The cat meowed softly as Blossom fell to her knees, wrapping her arms around Butch's neck and burying her face into his bloody hair. Hair as black as Buttercup's...hair just like Buttercup's...just like home.

She just wanted to go home.

The door at the top of the grey stairs creaked open an inch. A pair of eyes peered down at her with suspicion.

"Why'd you bring thisss here?"

The cat licked its paws and flicked its tail. Another set of eyes blinked down from the slither of open door.

"They don't look too good..."

"Well of coursssse...did yousse hear that fucking explossssion?"

Their words rung dully in her mind...

Professor...

Buttercup...

Bubbles...oh god, Bubbles...

Home. Please take me home.

Please.

Have mercy please.

"Oh have a heart..."

"We'sss full enough asss it issss..."

"They'll die out here..."

She wasn't going up there. They'd have to fucking drag her...

Oh God. Oh God please.

But Butch? What about Butch? He can't die, he can't die, please don't die. Why was everyone being torn from her? They couldn't tear someone else from her. They couldn't.

"Blossom? Honey? No-one's going to hurt you anymore...we're gonna look after you..."

She looked up with soaking eyes, mouth half-opening in pain. The voice was so soft and so familiar...some gentle force from so long ago. Something beautiful, reaching to her falling apart body with love and tenderness, something to heal her broken heart...

But no.

Gill sounded good. Gill seemed good.

It could be lies. Everything was lies. Everything was false, nothing was good, everything was evil. She didn't want to face the pain anymore. Let her die in this stinking hellhole, just leave her here to rot away.

Yes.

Rot away like Buttercup will be starting to do...

Unless you help her, Blossom.

And the last shattered cry dribbled from her torn lips and the tears came pouring down from between her clenched eyelids. Everything was unravelling, unfurling around her, falling apart. Yes. They talk about when a person finally hits rock bottom. Yes...she had reached the end of her fall. There was no-where else to go.

A sandpapery tongue swiped gently at her hand and her eyes opened a smidgeon. She felt the gaze of the people upstairs still on her, waiting for her to do something. She saw the glittering yellow eyes of the confused animal looking up at her. _Why was she sad_? it seemed to be asking.

She stared up at the endless blue sky darkening above her, felt the cold, icy air sting her cheeks, dry the old blood that coated her skin.

Once you've fallen all the way down...?

Where else can you go?

Where else can you go but up?

The world was old and ruthless around her. She'd die out here, she'd die out here all alone.

She couldn't die just yet.

She still had so much to do.

Buttercup.

Buttercup...

The only direction was up.

And those were the words that made her rise to her feet, pulling Butch up with her. Those were the words that made her walk slowly up the stone stairs, pressing her hand into the wall for support, a trail of blood staining the brick behind her. Those were the words that made her put all of the last dregs of her energy into dragging herself inside, the door closing neatly behind her.


	15. Contact

The cat followed the girl's feet, tail curved high in the air, yellow eyes glittering in the cramped darkness of the room. Blossom said nothing, Butch heavy on her shoulder. She saw curious eyes blinking over at her and heard a sound like the spring-breeze whispering through forest leaves, growing stronger and stronger as she dragged herself across the floor.

Someone placed a hand at her forearm...she looked up and saw a woman with lank, grey-streaked black-hair and soft blue eyes, smiling down at her. The tug of familiarity grew in her chest as she was led through the small, square room, past the confused eyes and away from the hushed voices.

In they went, through one of three doorways and into a tiny, cupboard-sized room, where a mess of greying sheets lay. Blossom let the black-haired woman take Butch from her arms and lie him down on the ground, tucking the sheets around him tight.

She slid down against the door jamb to the floor, resisting the urge to bury her face in her hands and cry. The woman stepped over her, taking the girl's backpack and Blossom slid over to take Butch's hand, grasping it so hard, she thought it might break. She heard the pitter-pat of padded feet as the cat went over to curl itself up next to the boy's head. She let her other hand rub between his ears.

Oh god...Butch looked so white beneath the caked black ash and sticky dark blood...

People were gathering around them...voices muted and faraway...wiping at their faces, scrubbing away the dirt and blood. Bandages wrapped themselves around her arms and legs, cold, stinging disinfectant, thin, ragged gauze...

Stale bread was pushed into her hands and a cup of something hot and steaming was placed beside her. When she sipped at it warily, she tasted bland, watery tea. She placed it back down distrustingly, as the shapes left them alone, seeming just as wary and suspicious of her as she was of them.

A look at Butch sent tremors of fear down to the pit of her stomach...bandages and a scrubbing down didn't make him look any better...not in the slightest. She brushed a lock of hair out of his glazed eyes and felt his feverish skin under her hand, clammy and slick.

He couldn't die...he couldn't die...his pained breath crackled out from between his shaking lips...

What was she going to do?

How did she know this place was safe?

She had to stay calm. She had to breathe...

People were lighting lamps from the next room as the night blackened outside the window. Blossom stretched out beside the green eyed boy, one eye fixed on the doorway. The cat stared with its lantern-like eyes as well, statue-still, whiskers flicking. Both carefully keeping guard.

The bone-aching tiredness and the aching hollowness in her body, mixed her dreams and reality into a sludge of old dripping colors as she drifted between sleep and consciousness. She didn't want to leave him alone. She didn't want to fall asleep. They might get her...they might drag her away...drag her away into the night.

No. She couldn't let that happen. She _wouldn't._

_No._

Not ever.

* * *

"_Blossom...?_"

Voice...what was that voice?

So smooth and golden...like something bright and clean from the soft cocoon of her childhood.

A hand on her shoulder...comforting and warm...

_Don't trust it, don't trust it..._

A heavy, squirming bundle buried its way into her lap and she tangled her fingers through its tufty fur. Weak sunlight shone through the small house and she saw two people sitting crossed-legged in front of her. One was the woman from the night before and the other was a young man with green skin and filthy black hair. He had managed to grow a ratty looking mustache from the last time she had seen him. The woman's face was kind and gentle but the man stared at her with open suspicion. She recognized them both, but she was in no mood to place their names.

Wait...what about Butch? Where was Butch?

She swiveled her head around, looking down to find her hand still clamped around his grubby paw. Her stomach twisted and fell apart, her throat clogging up with toxic bile as she let one shuddering breath in.

The sheets were spotted with blood, his gummed together lips crinkling with old spit, eyes wild and lost...

She fell to his side, exhaling fast, terror gripping her body...

"Blossom...we don't have the facilities here to help him...he has a burning fever and the bolt went in deep..."

A bubble of blood popped at the corner of his mouth, dribbling down his cheek. She pressed her face into his neck, circling her arms around him. He wasn't going to die...she wouldn't let him. She wouldn't let him die...

"Missss Ssssugar hassss done thissss before to people we know...mosssst people die within the hour, but Butch is made of ssssstronger ssssstuff ssssso he might lasssst a bit longer..."

The redhead looked up, blinking. Something bitter and venomous rose from the pit of her stomach.

"Miss _who? What _did you just call her?"

The man tried to hold her gaze, but looked down after a few seconds, squirming nervously.

"Ssssugar...that'sss what people call her now..."

The tired woman's face pulled inside itself, like a unripe piece of fruit, tight and grim.

"It seemed almost blasphemous to call her by her old name. Back when she was human."

Miss Sugar? _Miss Sugar_?

Blossom could only stare, arms tightening protectively around the boy's neck. She heard the sounds of the cat trotting over and jumping onto his chest, curling itself over his heart. The whiskers tickled her cheek but she barely noticed.

Miss Sugar and Mr Ginger?

Make-up slathered onto a falling apart corpse of a face, pointed yellow teeth, Miss Sugar, Miss Sugar, sister gone forever, gone forever all that was left was Miss Sugar, Miss Sugar, all gone, all gone, no-more, no-more, all gone, all gone...

Butch made a pinched, croaking noise deep in the back of his throat. Remember when you first saw him, how revolted he was...what did he say...? _He doesn't even call himself Brick anymore..._

She hadn't understood back then...to have all of the person you'd once loved so dearly, completely erased forever.

He was the only one who could understand this. These people sitting here, with their exhaustion and their fear, they didn't know a thing, didn't know a thing at all and they were going to let him die, they were trying to tell her he was going to die and they were wrong, they were wrong...

"Butch is going to be okay," she said, surprised at how clipped and unfeeling her voice had become. "There's another cure for this you just haven't found."

"Haven't _found_? Haven't..." the green-skinned man blustered furiously, glaring at the girl with bulging eyes. "You think...you think he'sss the only one who ever got hurt by them, _that you're the only fucking one_..."

The woman put a hand on his thin, shaking shoulder as Blossom looked over at him, eyebrows raised.

"He's after _me,_ Snake. _I'm _the one he wants. The rest of you are just obstacles in his way..."

"Are you really that arrogant?" the man snarled and his yellow teeth flashed, pointed and sharp; "you think you're _that_ fucking sssspecial?"

Blossom said nothing, face blank and emotionless.

"A Powerpuff will be a pretty prize for him...but we're all made up of the same sssstuff, leader-girl. It all tassstesss the sssame to him...yoursss might be particularly fucking alluring..."

"I'm made of different things then you. I can do things you can't..."

"You're sssstill _human_. Just one made out of kitchen ingrediantssss..."

Her lips were thin and her knuckles were clenched around the old, thread-bare sheets. The hate was like white-hot coal in her heart, but she didn't let it show, couldn't let it show. She made sure her eyes betrayed only cold indifference. The woman locked her own eyes with hers, but the motherly gaze only made her lips suck in even more.

"Snake's right, dear..." she said quietly. "A soul's a soul...and he's after the whole town."

Blossom wanted to lash out in fury. She wasn't _stupid_. She _knew _he was targeting everyone, she _knew _how many families had been ripped apart...

_What had Mary's parents thought when she didn't come home that night...? Were they scared? Relieved? Did they know about the Rats, the Rats so hungry...always hungry...?_

_Throw it from your mind, little girl..._

But no...no...this wasn't right. This was all wrong...

She'd thought all of his energy was on her specifically...why else had he stationed himself in Butch's hide-out to keep an eye on her? There had to be a reason behind it all...

"Him was in the pub," she said slowly, watching as they both recoiled back at the mention of his name; "he was pretending to be someone else and he was watching _me. _Why would he do that?"

There was silence. The two looked slightly shocked at this new piece of information. But Blossom didn't want to look at them, focused only on the boy on the ground, brushing the hair out of his face. The cat, perched high on his chest, gazed at her with its huge yellow eyes.

"Maybe...maybe he thought...if you ever tried to form an attack, he'd be the first to know," the woman offered, voice shaky and low. "He'd be able to strike you down straight away. At the moment, you and Butch are his biggest threat, so he was keeping an eye on you..."

"But...but those...those _two..._they...they kidnapped Butch and he was so_ angry_..."

"Becaussssse that provoked you into attack-mode early..."

Blossom shook her head, sending a hand through her hair, sighing with frustration.

"He sent me off through the back door himself...he _told_ me to get Butch back..."

She stared down into his fuzzed-over eyes, lips pale and bloodless...all this fucking talking when they were supposed to be helping him...she didn't want to look at him for too long...look at the way his hands shook like an old man's and the way he coughed wetly, bloody spit spotting the floor with red. For Christ's sake, why weren't they...why weren't they...

Why were they suddenly so quiet? A silence had fallen through the room...a silence of absolute, unbelieving shock. She looked up at them from beneath her shaggy red fringe. Saw how the woman's pink mouth had fallen open and the man was shaking his head slowly.

Don't let that trickle of fear into your heart, block it out...

"What?"

Snake leant forward, face narrow and unbelieving; "_the back door...? _You opened up the_ back door_?"

_Hot like an oven, the never-ending staircase spiraling upwards, regal and god-like with its hungry malevolent presence and its old ancient energy..._

She looked back at him warily.

"He did it himself...he pricked his finger and opened the door up..."

Snake was shaking his head again, sitting back and crossing his arms, shaking his head so hard it was like he was trying to block her out, block her and all this information out forever. The confusion was eating away at her insides like a hungry worm and the woman was staring at her with a strange look in her eye.

"Honey..." she said and her voice sounded just as slow and baffled as Blossom felt. "Hardly anyone goes through the back-door...and when they do, they don't come out again."

The girl said nothing, face crinkled up, waiting for an explanation.

"People don't often figure out the trick to get in...and the back door's one huge death-trap anyway..."

Death-trap? What the hell did she mean? What was she _talking _about?

But wait...hadn't...hadn't you..._felt_ someone..._some presence _in there with you? What about when you were running back down with Butch...remember how you...hadn't you...hadn't you felt..._something_ dragging you back?

"It'ssss a quick-fire way to extract a ssssoul for Him..." Snake was saying, somewhere far, faraway.

"Whatever the hell'ssss in there will..._ssssensssse_ when there'ssss ssssomeone weak for it to feed on...and then sssssomeone at the top of the ssstairssss will hear the sssscreamssss and...when they open the door there'ssss a body for them to throw to the Ratsssss..."

You have to breathe evenly Blossom, you can't show the fear, you can't...

"But where does the soul go?"

Snake shrugged.

"Direct link to Him, I guesss..."

The worm of confusion was burying in deeper, transforming into icy cold fear. The chills went up and down her spine and she breathed in hard. She didn't understand...she couldn't understand...

So...she'd figured out the way into his death-trap back in that dusty green room and he pulled the rug from under her feet, pushing her in like a lamb to the slaughter. An easy way to get rid of her...right? Then why hadn't she died? What if she didn't have a soul, what if she was an empty husk made of Chemical X and the thing in the stairs had ignored her cause there was nothing to feed on, she was already empty...

"You said he opened it up with his own blood? Maybe whatever was in there wasn't expecting you, dear..."

"Whatever wassss in there would've known right away it wasss just a Powerpuff..."

Maybe she was some kind've demon, bug-eyed freak, a monster, was she even really _human_...?

"But something attacked us when Butch went down there with me...it _sensed_ him..."

Didn't he have Chemical X running through him too? He was made up of basically the same things as her...but then why was _she_ so special? Nothing made sense...what was going on, someone had to answer her, someone had to answer her now...

Sandra Keane was staring at her now, with her sky-blue crinkled up eyes...

Miss Keane, her old kindergarten teacher from so long ago...

Examining her with bright blue eyes, eyes that bore through her like twin x-rays...searching through her...looking for something...

"Maybe..." the woman said, words measured and careful, "maybe they thought you were too powerful to attack."

The silence was almost deadly now.

They both stared at her and she felt the knotted ball in her throat clench tighter than ever, hot and twisted and bitter.

No...

That...that couldn't be true.

She wasn't powerful...not like that.

They were looking at her differently. As if she held some kind've great inner power...

They were _wrong_.

She had fallen _apart_...only a few hours ago, Butch had to drag her out of a pit of smashed and broken rubble, she'd spent the last few days an emotional _wreck_, she wasn't strong, she _wasn't..._

No. There had to be something wrong with her, that's why nothing attacked her in the staircase. That had to be it.

She didn't have any _power_.

Butch coughed sloppily again, his lips and teeth dripping with nauseating yellow-orange blood. His eyes rolled up and when Blossom brushed her fingers over his forehead, it burned like fire under her skin. The tightening grew stronger, like crusty sludge and she swallowed painfully.

"Whatever happened, it's not important now," she said, gulping back the fear trembling deep down in her stomach. She rose to her feet and their eyes slowly followed her.

"I'm not going to let Butch die. We need to do something about him immediately."

No-one said a word. She stared down at the black-haired boy, shallowly breathing through his slime-slicked teeth. There had to be a way...there was a solution somewhere. Every problem had a solution...every problem...

Her brow furrowed deeply...think...she had to think.

"We...we thought..." the slithery voice trailed out, shattering her concentration. Her head whipped around with a crack and he almost shrunk back on the spot.

"Thought what?" she snapped. His bony shoulders rose up under his ears and he looked like he wanted to scuttle over into the corner.

"We...thought you'd be interessssted...in what all of..." he gestured a little madly about the room, "all of thisss place isss about..."

Well of course...why _was _her old kindergarten teacher and a former hoodlum hiding out in a room filled with other strange people...?

The girl simply sighed. They had no time for storytelling.

"You can tell me later," she told him curtly and his black lips went thin. "We have more pressing things at hand."

"We can't take him to the hosssp..."

"I know," she cut through him and his lips curled up even more, staring over at her sullenly. Of course...of course the hospital was out of the question...Now where did she last go when she was sick? Where did she...

Suddenly, she found herself sinking slowly back down onto the ground again and the tightness was so strong this time, she felt like she might just dry-heave...

_Swallow down the vomit...don't cry, don't cry, whatever you do, don't cry..._

"What's wrong Blossom?" she came in close, hand heavy and tender on her shoulder. When Blossom breathed in, she smelt that old maternal smell...something drifting back from the haziest of her memories. Baked cookies and orange-scented soap...

_Close your eyes and let it wash over you... _

"T-the la…the last time I was sick..." she said, forcing herself to sound strong, forcing herself to sound assertive; "whenever we got really hurt...in a supernatural way...the...the..."

Oh God, she didn't want to say it, it hurt so bad to say it...keep your eyes closed, block out the world, inhale that scent of safety and warmth...she didn't want to...she didn't want to say it.

"The P-Professor. He always had some kind've...kind've medicine."

An awful clogging sensation was happening in her throat. She had to get over herself, she had to breathe...breathe...don't think of his cold dead skin and his blank black eyes and her white hot grin...

No.

Think of when you see her next.

When you destroy that mess of veins and muscle she called a face, once and for all.

When she opened her eyes, her face was stony and her jaw was set, lips one white, straight line. She looked over at the woman, whose eyes had never seemed that haunted in the fraying patchwork of her memory...

"That means that's where I have to go."

The woman's eyes widened with fear.

"You can't..."

Her voice was suddenly desperate and Blossom shrugged her hand off her shoulder, no matter how bone-achingly comforting it was. The old woman clasped the girls hand instead and she had never remembered them being this wrinkled, the nails this dirty and chipped...but they were still just as soft...

"Blossom..."

"Going to the Utonium Housssse is practically ssssuicide..."

She tried to shake her hands free but Sandra Keane held on tight.

"The city isn't what it used to be Blossom...didn't you notice when you were outside? This used to be one of the better areas of town...and now look how it's fallen."

She didn't want to hear it, it hurt too much to hear this...

"It all went to ssssshit when the Powerpuff Girlssss broke up...it all went to fucking hell..."

All her fault...she knew it was all her fault...

"That house is one of the most dangerous places in the city now...all of their cronies use it as a hang-out...they bring their personal play-things along to do God knows what to them..."

Her withered face dissolved into an angry mess of creased lines. She saw Snake shudder and the cat stretched, arching its back and splaying its claws.

"You remember...I used to teach this girl with you and your sisters...what was her name? Mary...?"

Something cold slid through her at the sound of that name. She wasn't ever going to remember those dying moments again. No. She refused to. Don't listen, it was all too horrific...

"They shot her full of something they found down in the lab. It paralyzed her body completely...and then...then they thought it would be funny to throw her to the Rats and...and leave her there to be..."

She didn't have to say anymore. Her stomach did one sickening flop and she watched as Snake turned his back to them, burying his face in his arms. She bit her lip hard to keep it from trembling, bit so hard she felt the blood at her tongue. Sandra Keane put her head down, silvery-black fringe hiding her hollow eyes from view.

"Andssss...and...the Gang..."

His voice was muffled and hoarse...the Gang? Old rascals she had fought as a youngster? No...don't tell me anymore please, don't tell me...

"Li'l Arturo managed to get out before sssshit went down...he took Grubber wif him...he usssssed to send me an' Big Billy a letter every week, but 'e'ss stopped doing that now...I told him to, after all thissss buissssnesssss sssstarted up...told 'im it wassssn't ssssafe any more..."

He fell silent. When he spoke next, his voice was so quiet, she had to strain her ears to hear.

"I haven't heard from him ssssince...I wassss jusssst...jusssst waiting for Ace to come back...he'd look after ussss again..."

Yes...cause he was in jail now wasn't he? He'd been there for a while...remember how Buttercup had such a huge crush...don't think of Buttercup, don't think, don't think...

It didn't look like Snake wanted to say anymore. The woman stepped in for him.

"When the Powerpuff Girls broke up, it took about a week for a riot to break...all the inmates broke out...we don't know if Ace made it out alive or not. Mr Ginger sent his cronies into the situation...and...and Big B..._William_...well he..."

"It's Big _Billy_," Snake snapped. "He wassss...he wasss sssso fucking _ssssstupid_..." he wiped madly at his eyes.

"Fucking...cut off his hair...ssslit his ssstomach wide open...hanged his gutsss over the powerlinessss...and then they nailed hissss body to the ceiling of the ssshack for me to find..."

He broke off, curling his scrawny, hairy arms around his knees, burying his head away. Blossom could only stare, mouth falling open, eyes fogging over. Her other hand found Miss Keane's blindly and the woman grasped it tight as she felt her entire body begin to shake. She wanted to fall into her shoulder and cry...just cry and cry and cry and just let her hug her...she had to be strong. No...no...how could this _happen, _how could someone _do _that...

No, no, no, no, no...

She couldn't let them murder any more people, no, no, they couldn't do this, they _couldn't_...

"I...I have to go...the only other option is watching him die too..."

Snake turned his red-rimmed, yellowing eyes to her, arms still wrapped around himself protectively.

"Sssometimesss people have to fucking die. Better deal with it, kid."

She pulled her hands free of the woman's beside her. She got to her feet, toes floating an inch from the floor.

Swallow back the pain, swallow it back down...

She wanted to pull her hair out of the roots and scream until her throat burst and she wanted to hide under the warm blankets, safe and sound forever...

Breathe, breathe, breathe, you have to breathe...

"Sometimes they do. But I'm not letting them take him as well. So deal with that," she brushed the dust from her shirt as they stared up at her.

"Blossom, have you been listening? You won't get out of there alive...you'll be asking for a fight. Is that what you want...?"

"I'm not letting him die..." she said firmly; "and that's not a negotiable matter..."

"Sssso if you die, then all the Rowdyruff'sss and Powerpuff'sss are gone forever...doessss that make sssenssse to you?"

The cold sinking feeling made her whole body go numb. She swallowed hard. All gone? Every single one?

"What about...what about Buttercup?"

Snake shrugged dismissively.

"No fucking idea...they took her from the hosssspital around the time the prisssson riotsss were going on and we haven't heard from her sssssince."

Her stomach dropped even lower. At least...at least she wasn't dead...but was she? They didn't know...where had she gone?

"I've gone up against Mr Ginger and...and Miss Sugar before," she said and saying that _name _seemed so foreign and nasty on her tongue, like she was licking out a bowl of toxic shit and she felt her stomach clench and roll and her skin prickle with disgust...

"If I can handle them, then I can handle their cronies."

Snake snorted a little.

"Oh yeah..." he said snidely. "You handled them, that'ssss right. You mean have them blow up a building and then drag yoursssself here with some dying idiot on your sssshoulder? Yeah, great work handling that."

She stood frozen by the tangle of grey sheets and grayer limbs. She felt the cat coil around her legs almost possessively, meowing up at her. Her fists clenched and unclenched.

"I'm not here to fight you," she said and her voice sounded way too weary and thin for someone as old as she was. "Now I'm going to get him help and unless you can think of another way to save him, I'm going."

They gave her no answer. Beside her feet, Butch curled himself tighter against the floor, spittle leaking from the side of his mouth. She turned for the door. Sandra Keane took a step towards her and spread her arms wide, almost as if she wanted to hug her, but Blossom didn't want any comfort. It might've convinced her to stay...

She slid through the door and into the small, front room. It wasn't as cramped as the night before, but she paid this no interest. She had places to go...the laboratory...where her father once lived...

Her _father..._

Frantic footsteps made her head whip around. Snake stopped a few feet from her, cramming his hands into his pockets. He stared down at his feet.

"You can't just fly in..."

"I know..."

He bit into his lower lip hard. Then he sighed, tugging at a strand of long greasy hair.

"If...if you sssssee...if you see a tall man...with spiky green hair..."

He paused for a second, as if saying all of this was almost painful to him.

"If you ssee him...you sssseee him..."

He stared up at her with his glassy yellowed eyes.

"You kill him for me pleasssse."

She didn't say a word as he licked his lips with his serpentine tongue, avoiding her eyes, building up his walls and defenses once more. She nodded, wanting to say something, her tongue suddenly swollen and heavy in her mouth.

_How long ago was it, when Snake came home and saw that thing hanging from his ceiling, flies and maggots dripping down from its dead body...?_

He walked off again, shoulders hunched over, head down. She stared down at her hands, all scabbed and bandaged.

She had to get going. She had to plan her strategy. She had to think of a tactic. She had to get in and out of her old home alive. She had to think...think, think, think.

Walk across the room...you can do this, you can do this…

And when the door fell open, the bright light shone in, illuminating the room with golden sun. It washed over her scratched, pale face and made her black-bagged eyes squint painfully in the glare.

Somewhere...some place out there, in that wide blue space, animals with nails and teeth and grinning faces were ripping people apart, tearing the fabric of this town to tiny little bits. Killing people in the most horrific ways possible for their own sick amusement, as chaos ruled the streets.

And her sister was one of them.

But she wasn't going to let them win. She wasn't going to let the fear drag her down.

No.

She was going to fight.

She was going to attack them back.

* * *

**A/N: hey my lovelies. Thanks again for each of your reviews...I get so surprised on how many I get. I'm really trying to get this story done and dusted by the end of this year...I started it in 2009...It's kinda ridiculous its been going on this long. So stick around...we've defintely started the third act now! Hopefully things aren't too confusing, depressing, or melodramatic! **

**Peace ~**

**Incy.**


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